3 posts tagged “environment”

I'm not even that far into the book yet, so I can't tell you how the experiment turns out. I had to pause on p. 16, though,  because I was inspired to write about what Kingsolver calls "food culture." She frames her family's experiment with a history of all that's wrong with American food consumption patterns. These are arguments that have become mainstream, even by American standards: the fossil fuels used to deliver those cherries from Chile to your breakfast table should make Americans hang their heads in shame. Because you can pluck it off the shelf, doesn't mean you should. Do you really know where your food comes from? Do you know why it's ludicrous to purchase a bunch of Asparagus in October? Do you know what's happened to the American farmer, and why, if he's still around, he's producing corns and soybeans (in case you don't, it's because these are the most subsidized crops by a landslide in America, which are then converted into high fructose corn syrup and partially hydrogenated oils)? Kingsolver provides a rousing call to action in the opening pages of the book, and without wagging her finger in our face a little too loudly, inspires readers to take the next step. Be a smarter consumer of what you put into your mouth, and the mouths of your children--it is your legacy.

What gave me pause so early in the book, though, is Kingsolver's discussion of "food culture." Kingsolver suggests that a food culture asks, "who is us, exactly?" How do we Americans identify ourselves through our connection to food rituals, traditions and recipes? Further broken down, what fruits and vegetables are in season, which ones keep through winter, and how do we preserve food? "What animals and vegetables thrive in one's immediate region, and how do we live well on those, with little else thrown in the mix besides a bag of flour, and a pinch of salt?" It is what Kingsolver calls, our "story of bread." Except that America has no story of bread, really. Modern Americans are completely divorced from the process of agriculture and how we could feed ourselves based on what food is available here in our region, what's available and what's in season, instead of hey! it's on the shelf, so I'm going to buy it.  We are attracted to food without understanding what it's made of and how much it cost to get it here, or take it from other human beings. Bananas from South America. Hamburger Helper. Spaghetti sauce loaded with foreign tomatoes, preservatives, and high fructose corn syrup. McDonald's. Funyons. Little Debbies. The list goes on. If we are what eat, what do the choices (and accordingly, the obesity level) of Americans say about us? I'm kind of embarrassed of the answer.

What really brought this argument into focus for me is Kingsolver's evaluation of other food cultures. She's not trying to be unnecessarily hard on Americans and their divorce from the soil. There was a time in American history where people knew where their food came from, and shopped at the local farmer's stand, or the local grocery where the local farmer sold his goods. As the American economy exploded, we all know what happened from there. Walmart, genetically modified foods, skewed subsidies for the wrong crops and free trade landed us where we are today. We don't even know how a potato grows, or how that chicken breast got into pretty little cellophane and Styrofoam package, ready to eat. Wishing it wasn't so doesn't change anything, and some of the evolution has been the result of positive change for a growing and expanding economy. As Kingsolver points out, though, how have other nations still preserved their food culture, their identity through food custom and ritual, while commodification of agriculture and economic expansion occurred? Why are the French not enamored by the idea of a McDonald's on every corner? Why would the Japanese run screaming at the suggestion of the Atkins diet? As Kingsolver points out, after all of the change and evolution in agriculture worldwide, the Italians still eat Italian, and the Japanese still eat Japanese. Other countries still honor "ancient synergies between what their land can give and what their bodies need. Strong food cultures are both aesthetic and functional, keeping the quality and quantity of foods consumed relatively consistent from one generation to the next." She says, "at its heart, a genuine food culture is an affinity between people and the land that feeds them."

Hmmm. Food for thought. It got me thinking that food culture in the United States can have two congruous and compatible meanings, and does to me. The thing is, huge pockets of subculture exist in a country as large as the United States. Italy and Japan do have an easier time preserving a food identity, because the terrain, soil and environment is largely similar throughout all of their land. So, what goes in North Carolina doesn't go in North Dakota, or even in California. We're a little different everywhere you go in America. This is also evidenced by the existence of regional "specialties." Southern food is famously different from comfort foods of the Midwest. So food culture, in my mind, is about the history of your region (or even your family), its traditions, recipes, customs, and also how those specialties relate to the above questions about agriculture: what food is available here in our region, what's available and what's in season?

So, when I thought about this post, I thought about how wonderful it would be to share my own family's food culture, the culture I grew up with, and the culture I'm still shaping for my family today. More importantly, because so many of my neighbors are from different countries, regions or cities, I want to know how others perceive both their childhood food culture, and the food culture they have with their own families today. How do we preserve our family's traditions and customs and what it taught us about food, while reconciling that with what we know today, that we are responsible for educating ourselves about food sources and making better choices.

I grew up in Toledo, Ohio, a blue-collar manufacturing town in the Rust Belt, to two parents who were married straight out of the gate from high school. My dad worked driving a truck when I was too young to remember, and his job was frequently under assault by layoffs or cutbacks, meaning our family was either flush with cash or too poor to buy groceries. By the time my Mom was 24, she had three kids and not a lot of money to spread around on the dinner table. What characterized our very early family years, the years I barely remember, was scarcity. My mom's food philosophy was about stretching a dollar as thin as it could possibly go. She made up some of her own recipes, like basic casseroles consisting of noodles with cream soups or flavored with bouillon, and canned vegetables, and meat, if there was money. These casseroles could go a long way for a family of five. The early years inadvertently set us up for the way my mom would feed us forever, even in the years where financial prosperity had finally arrived at our door. Casseroles and stick-to-your-ribs kind of meals were staples in our house, and synonymous with comfort food. We were still requesting my Mom's chicken and noodles one pot meal of the lean years (it really is that delicious!) in high school and beyond. These foods mean comfort and family to us.

The efficiency of the early years carried over too. After years of having to be painfully organized about meal preparation (because if she wasn't, there wouldn't be enough to feed us all for a week at time), she kept it up as a matter of course. Every week, she sat down and meal planned for entire week, seven meals on the table, and grocery shopped based on that. There was always variety on our table, and we were never bored because she was so organized, meals didn't often repeat within the same month. Her non-casserole meals were always accompanied by the appropriate portions of meat, starch and vegetable. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and corn. Fried chicken, roasted potato quarters, green beans. Cube steak, rice, and broccoli. Pork chops, cheesy potatoes, and lima beans.

She never cooked with the help of packaged goods. This again, traced back to the early years, when buying meat, potatoes and a canned vegetable was cheaper than a boxed meal that fed half the amount of servings. She even fed us off a backyard vegetable garden for a few years. We grew up without ever having Hamburger Helper, box macaroni and cheese, or canned soups for dinner. There weren't a lot of processed foods like packaged cookies, or dinners at McDonald's or pizza nights. Even pizza was homemade. My mom was anti-soda and anti-juice before it was cool to be so. She thought it was a waste of money when water was just as good. It was such an anomaly in our neighborhood and among my friends, that I actually used to complain to my mom, "why can't we ever just have mac and cheese for dinner?" or "can't we just go to McDonald's tonight?" I remember being disgruntled that there wasn't a copious bounty of Oreos, Nutter Butters, and pop in our house like those of my friends. Oops. Sorry Mom!

Anyway, the food culture in our home was one of inadvertent benefits. My mom didn't mean to, but she taught us a lot about the value of knowing where your food came from, because you cooked it. While based in poverty originally, our food culture morphed into one of food being the centerpiece of the home. My mom believe strongly in homemade meals characterized by comfort food, and the kitchen table being a place of family gathering. She believed that package dinners and fizzy drinks were wasteful, and she could make anything better herself. Where that leaves the culture of my food philosophy today is that I have inherited her belief that eating at home is healthier, less expensive, and a source of bonding for a family. There's nothing that can compare to the sense of accomplishment and taste when you've taught yourself how to make a chocolate cake from scratch, or you've mastered your first Thai dish and your family lights up at the dinner table in approval. I am much more experimental in cooking than my mom was, favoring anything Thai, Chinese or Indian for the sake of a good experiment. I've strayed from both her tendency to serve red meat as the centerpiece of a meal, and her affinity for frying things in Crisco. I also hate soda and juice, and consider them not only financially wasteful, but thanks to our generation getting more education on the subject, unhealthy.

I am most grateful that my mom taught me cooking is love, which is a LARGE part of the food culture around here. Both love for your family, and love for yourself. The vegetable chopping, simmering oil and garlic and spices in the pan, the pop of sizzling potatoes in the oven...that's heaven for me. Serving a plate full of something born of your own hard work and efforts to a friend or your children, even better (unless of course said child turns up her nose...then it's a bit less heavenly).

If I could inject anything into our food culture, it would be to take the next step that Kingsolver suggests. I have a benefit my mom did not: an education in food. I understand that cooking without processed food is about more than a financial choice or preference, it's about health. And I have other alternatives. I can buy from a local farmer, because farmer's markets, CSA and organic sales are on the rise, and on the radar in a way they weren't during my childhood. I could conceivably supply most of my grocery needs right in my good, old neighborhood. There are local farmers here that sell dairy, cheese, poultry, and others that sell every fruit and vegetable I might need. I would like to educate myself more about what's in season and what's local. I would like to cook with a pinch of salt and a bag of flour, as Kingsolver suggests, and not much else. I would like to raise my children with trips to our local farms and farmer's market, and give them a good education about where food comes from. I would like to garden. I would like to learn how to can or freeze my own food. I would like to attain the synergy Kingsolver speaks of between land and the way we eat in this house. Combining the history of food culture from my childhood, with the things I know today about our responsibility to eat, well, more responsibly, would give us a very rich food culture indeed. I'll keep you posted!

So, now what I want to know is, what was your childhood food culture, and what is it now that you have your own family? What were the traditions, customs or recipes of your childhood, and have you infused that with the knowledge we have today about where food comes from? Do share! In your own post, or comment here, I'd love to know what the food culture is in your family! (just be sure to comment if you do make your own post, so we can all read!)