Sabzi Trademark Dispute: Food, Culture & Legal Battles

When Food Turns Legal: The “Sabzi” Trademark Dispute and What It Means for Food Culture

Imagine a world where a word as universal and ordinary as "vegetables" becomes the subject of a legal battle. It’s a scenario that feels almost too absurd to be true, yet it’s playing out right now in the UK, sparking heated debates about food, language, and cultural ownership. At the heart of the controversy is Yasmin Khan, a celebrated British-Iranian-Pakistani food writer, and her latest cookbook, Sabzi. The title, which translates to "vegetables" in Farsi, Urdu, and several other South Asian languages, has landed Khan and her publisher, Bloomsbury, in the middle of a trademark dispute with a Cornish deli owner. For food lovers and advocates of cultural appreciation, the story raises important questions about how language and culinary traditions are treated in an increasingly globalized world.

Yasmin Khan is no stranger to the world of food writing. Her books, including The Saffron Tales and Zaitoun, have received acclaim for their ability to celebrate and demystify the vibrant cuisines of Iran, Palestine, and the surrounding regions. Her latest release, Sabzi, is a collection of vegetarian recipes inspired by the rich culinary traditions of Iran and South Asia. However, shortly after its launch, the book was temporarily pulled from Amazon. The reason? A trademark claim by Kate Attlee, owner of a deli in Cornwall named “Sabzi.” Attlee, who trademarked the word in 2022, argued that the cookbook’s title had caused confusion among her customers, some of whom believed the book was tied to her business.

For those familiar with South Asian or Middle Eastern cuisine, the idea of trademarking “sabzi” might seem perplexing. The word is deeply ingrained in the everyday language of over a billion people worldwide, used to describe vegetables, greens, or herbaceous dishes. It’s a staple term, as common in the culinary vocabulary as words like “bread” or “pasta.” In fact, a quick glance at menus in many multicultural cities, including those in Malta, would reveal numerous dishes labeled as “sabzi” in Indian, Pakistani, or Persian restaurants.

Bloomsbury, Khan’s publisher, has defended the book’s title, stating that “sabzi” is a descriptive term and not a brand name, and pointing out that Khan began working on the book in 2017, two years before Attlee’s deli even opened. In their statement, Bloomsbury emphasized that the term is “part of the shared culinary vocabulary of many cultures, including Ms. Khan’s own heritage.” Their argument is simple: vegetables, or the word for them, cannot be owned.

Yet, under UK trademark law, the situation isn’t that straightforward. While a trademark cannot generally consist of a purely descriptive or generic term, the law also hinges on the perception of the “average UK consumer.” If most UK consumers are unfamiliar with the meaning of “sabzi,” the term could be seen as distinctive enough to trademark. This linguistic and cultural gap raises an uncomfortable question: How did a word so commonplace in kitchens and markets around the globe become subject to exclusive ownership?

For food lovers in Malta, a nation celebrated for its own rich culinary traditions and cultural diversity, this debate hits home. Food has always been a bridge between cultures, a way to share history, flavors, and healthful practices. The Mediterranean diet, which forms the backbone of Maltese cuisine, thrives on the communal spirit of food—fresh vegetables, olive oil, legumes, and herbs passed down through generations and shared across tables. Imagine if a word as essential to our culinary heritage as “ħobż” (bread) or “kapunata” (Maltese ratatouille) were suddenly claimed as intellectual property. The thought alone feels alien to the inclusive ethos of food and its role in community building.

The situation with Sabzi has sparked outrage in the global food community, with many calling out the absurdity of trying to trademark a word that belongs to so many. Food writer Rukmini Iyer, whose Indian heritage familiarized her with the term, expressed her disbelief online: “OVER ONE BILLION PEOPLE use the word ‘sabzi’ daily. And they aren’t talking about a deli.” She likened the trademark to someone claiming ownership of the word “fish” and suing anyone who dared to use it. Other writers, including Iranian-Italian author Saghar Setareh and Australian-Chinese cookbook author Hetty Lui McKinnon, have also condemned the move, calling it “insane” and “completely mad.” As Setareh put it, “Words are not our personal property. We cannot own them.”

The case is reminiscent of another controversial food trademark dispute in the UK. In 2007, a British-founded restaurant chain named “Pho” successfully trademarked the word for Vietnam’s beloved noodle soup. However, public backlash erupted when the company began sending legal notices to smaller restaurants that used the term “pho” in their names. After an outcry led by a London-based Vietnamese influencer, the chain eventually apologized and relinquished its trademark, recognizing the cultural insensitivity of their claim. The parallels with the Sabzi case are striking, but this time, the stakes feel even higher.

For small business owners like Attlee, the intentions might not always be malicious. Protecting a brand in a competitive market is a valid concern. Attlee herself has stated that she respects Khan and her work, claiming she doesn’t seek financial gain but rather recognition for her deli. However, the moment a widely used cultural term like “sabzi” is registered as intellectual property, it goes against the spirit of food itself. Food, after all, is a shared language. It connects, unites, and nourishes—not just the body but also the mind and soul. To claim ownership of a word like “sabzi” is to reduce a rich cultural concept to a commodity, stripping away its communal essence.

For Malta’s foodies and restaurant-goers, this debate serves as a reminder of the importance of cultural awareness in the culinary world. As we embrace a healthy lifestyle inspired by diverse cuisines, from Mediterranean to Middle Eastern and beyond, we must also honor the origins of the ingredients and dishes we love. Whether it’s enjoying a bowl of vegetable-packed kusksu, a hearty plate of minestra, or a fragrant Indian sabzi, the act of eating is about more than sustenance—it’s about celebrating the interconnectedness of cultures.

The Sabzi trademark dispute also raises questions about how we value and preserve linguistic diversity. For a country like Malta, where the Maltese language is a unique blend of Arabic, Italian, and English influences, this issue resonates deeply. Just as we cherish our own words and culinary traditions, so too should we respect the heritage of others. Language and food are living entities, shaped by history, migration, and memory. They are not commodities to be claimed but gifts to be shared.

As the legal case unfolds, one thing is clear: the spirit of food is inherently communal. It thrives on generosity, shared experience, and cultural exchange. Whether you’re a small deli owner in Cornwall, a cookbook author celebrating your heritage, or a Maltese chef plating up a dish inspired by the Mediterranean, the essence of food lies in its ability to bring people together. And no trademark should ever stand in the way of that.