Category: Readings

Students respond to some aspect of the reading for that week.

Community in a Kitchen

by Emma Homans

Reading the Wendell Berry piece for this week, in which Andy Catlett tells a story about watching his grandmother make pie, was interesting to me in what it said about cooking as a way to relate to one another. In the piece, Catlett explains how his grandmother talked while she cooked, updating him on the latest news from the family, and how he followed her around and listened intently. Through spending time with his grandmother as she cooks, he becomes closer to her and closer to his family, demonstrating how cooking can help individuals connect to one another. We’ve talked about food and community a lot in this class, and this piece was interesting to me because it seemed to describe a different process of creating connection through food, one that seems more relevant to me and my internship this summer than our discussions of eating local or food justice.

In general, I’ve been working two days a week at the Parent-Child Center in the town of Middlebury, an organization that works with families and children, especially young mothers and their children. I work in the kitchen with some young women who participate in the job training program, as well as whoever is our supervisor for the day. I spend most of my time helping with basic food prep by cutting vegetables or preparing food to send to the childcare rooms, or washing the dishes from the childcare rooms after everyone has eaten. I’ve really enjoyed the work environment because of how much the kitchen seems to be a space in which community is built. The women with whom I work are constantly sharing and comparing stories about the growth of their children and how they’re adjusting to new schools and new summer schedules, and how they themselves are doing in their relationships with husbands and boyfriends. Throughout the day, the women share words of support about how they handled similar situations, or make plans to share time and resources outside of the kitchen once work is over. It’s been interesting to see just how well the women know each other and their families, for instance when every meal is considered for allergies or diet preferences. They seem to carry around long and detailed mental lists of who can eat what, down to whether each child drinks whole or 1% milk. Additionally, at the beginning of each day when we look at the schedule to see what lunch will be for that day, the items on the menu often prompt funny stories involving the women’s families.

In Andy Catlett’s story, his grandmother is using mostly local ingredients and recipes that were probably handed down through the generations. While there has been some talk of how to increase the amount of local food used in the meals at the Parent-Child Center, my guess is that few ingredients are local, and Michael Pollan would not be please to hear that sometimes the meals include items that Berry’s grandmother certainly would not recognize as food (like today’s fishsticks). However, I think it’s important to recognize the small ways that people are connecting around food in order to better understand how the realities of our current food system compare to the huge goals that we’ve set for ourselves. For instance, budget concerns were the first thing mentioned at the suggestion of increasing local food. One of my questions about increasing local food would be the children’s response to new local vegetables, some of which may be unfamiliar. Overall, I appreciate the experience I’ve had at my internship because I’ve been able to see the community that can be formed in a kitchen, even when we have so far to go in terms of changing the way our society at large relates to food.

Joining at the Table

by Armon Smith

In reading Wendell Berry’s  piece this week, he offers us such subtle and succinct wording to describe a very intimate moment, which brought back memories for me in my own life. Berry describes food as comforting and welcoming, which reminds me of when I was younger and siting at the table watching my Grandmother cook. I would always engage in dialogue, which is so memorable and vivid in the presence of food. For me, he demonstrates a “southern style” food moment through his word choices in this piece. For example, I was struck by how simple, but powerful Berry’s words were in this piece. The sensory details that are present take the reader to the exact moment and place in which Berry is referring to from the life of Andy Catlett. The piece provides a very inviting picture for the reader; a picture that allows the reader to become one with food.

I love how Wendell Berry uses pie as a symbol and theme of this piece because it really brings out the message of how we should use food as a symbol of our everyday life. Food has so many meanings, and brings to light so many emotions and stories. The magnitude and power of the stories told and shared through food is amazing. Food is used as a political, social, and religious symbol throughout all of mankind. I know in my own life, food gives the ability for individuals to relate to one another. It provides a vivid and personal moment between multiple groups of people. I think through Wendell Berry’s diction and sensory details in this piece, the reader can learn to use food as a commonality that helps bring people together no matter what race, creed, or belief an individual comes from.

The Shared Experience of Eating

by Chloe Kidder

 

I took a winter course on “Food, Culture, and Communication” co-taught by the lovely Sohpie Esser-Calvi and her husband Ben. We spent a lot of time sharing our own food stories and listening and reading those of others. It was incredibly powerful to hear students’ experiences with food; everything from diving for clams in Cape Cod to trading traditional Jewish foods in middle school during lunch time for the highly coveted Gushers. I could connect with every story and it wasn’t like we were all great storytellers. Reading Wendell Berry’s piece about Andy Catlett made me realize that the reason I found these food stories so fascinating and relatable was that they were all about food. Even though I hadn’t eaten spam musubi nor had I eaten the mangos in Costa Rica, Berry’s story made me realize that I could relate because I know what it is like to eat.

Andy Catlett’s experience with his grandmother really struck a cord with me. His writing is incredibly accessible as even though not all are familiar with rural farm life, grandmothers, or even pies, we all know food. There is something about sharing food stories that is palpable in a way no other fiction is.

I think this is because food is the ultimate sensory experience. It provides us with an endless array of smells, tastes, textures, and sounds. Often times food sticks around long after it was first consumed in our bodies, providing a friendly reminder of the experience we have had. Eating is the most physically-holistic experience out there. Food forms our bodies and our experiences affecting everything from energy levels, sleep habits, and overall health and is something that we engage with everyday. Stories like Berry’s connect us in ways that other literature can’t as they play on this common experience and joy of eating.

Going back to Sophie’s comment during the video panel with Bill McKibben, Helen Young, Dara Scott, and Kirk Webster, the way to connect with people and create meaningful change is by taping into the pleasure and love for and from food. Sharing food stories, while seemingly not much more than an entertaining ice-breaker has the ability to connect and unite people prompting greater systemic change. If someone were to tell me now, after having read Berry’s story, that wild black raspberries were becoming endangered I am much more likely to stand up and do something about it as now I better understand the significance it has to real people if they were to become extinct.

Looking Past Nutrition Labels to Get a Clearer View of Our Food

by Camryn Hellwarth

The stream of light amber re-coats a sticky spout with a new layer of syrup. Upon contact with the surface of hot pancake, the liquid pools momentarily before splitting its path to cascade over the layered edges of the stack in a synthetic drizzle. An ultimate “imitation food” (Pollan 153), this combination of caramel coloring and corn syrup makes a sweet mixture not as sincere, but equally as mysterious as maple syrup itself.

The “mystical acts” that have come to represent the making of food products illustrate the increasing amount of unfamiliarity we have with the processes that form our food (Trubek 217). If the steps involved in making wine or maple syrup seem like wizardry to the average consumer, how do we begin to comprehend the processes that go into making a diet Coke or Mrs. Butterworth’s sugar free syrup? These food-like products take us even further from an understanding of food and immerse us in a foodscape dictated by health claims and nutrition labels. The compartmentalization that separates processes from results is a key factor in solidifying the “foodviews” held by consumers, so that an individual’s connection to the place or people involved in a food’s journey is eliminated from the process of food selection (Trubek 222).

In contrast to the French, who are very aware of how and where their food is produced (Trubek 84), it seems that Americans can drown their waffles in sodium hexametaphosphate and high fructose corn syrup while still viewing their breakfast condiment as a relative of maple syrup. The secrecy that is so prevalent in the food systems of the United States is not tolerated in France, as demonstrated by the events that made up the Mondavi case (Trubek 84). Unlike the French, American consumers don’t know where their food comes from, which makes them a lot less likely to fight for the protection of a given place or the use of a certain production method, since they have no connection to these things in the first place.

How can we begin to care enough about the land our food is made on to be willing to fight to protect it? Without a culture that ties us to traditional methods of production and a respect for land, it becomes exponentially more difficult to promote sustainable practices that honor a food’s natural form and the longevity of the land on which it’s produced. Moving forward, we must realize the value in knowing how a food is made, and use that knowledge as leverage to begin questioning the products that end up on our plate.

 

Feminist Food

by Caroline Vexler

I stepped into the room with urgency: straining, appraising the scene, letting an electric mixture of panic and adrenaline soak my nerves. Smoke was unfurling around the room in dense, hot, steamy clouds. The white lights set the room in an uncomfortable fluorescent glow, as if a spotlight were trained on us all. There was a constant metallic clanking as tools were used and discarded, alarms shrieked in displeasure, and I spoke in a calm and clear voice above the maelstrom of movement, announcing my arrival with the question, “How can I help?” I was ushered to a small workstation and handed the necessary equipment. My assignment arrived in scalding glass: to tile, in marshmallow, a sweet potato pie.

Thanksgiving

Not all kitchens are war scenes. Some are clean and meticulous, some are haphazard but cheerful, some are casual and vibrant, but on Thanksgiving Day all kitchens become food factories and butcheries. My grandmother’s is no exception. The women in my family are a bastion of strength and feminism, and yet, with the exception of wielding the carving knife, we perform all of the culinary duties. Maybe it’s because on the most ancient of American holidays we conform to heteronormative roles, maybe it’s because we enjoy cooking the most, or maybe it’s because if you want something done well, you do it yourself. Our team consisted of the following: my grandmother, a Wellesley graduate, family commander-in-chief, and chef extraordinaire; my mother, owner of prestigious undergraduate and law degrees, full time parent by choice, and responsible for two[1] Ivy League acceptances; and myself, a liberal, feminist, Brown student, with a labored sense of purpose and language (see use of “maelstrom”). We could not be more qualified to run a kitchen, or the world.

Our kitchen operated in machine-like fashion. We sliced, scraped, and stirred on schedule. No recipe or dietary restriction was too daunting for our fearless trio. We deftly adopted an in-law’s sweet potato pie. We carefully cultivated simple choices for little picky eaters. We created low-sodium options, low-acidic sauces, and lactose-free alternatives. We produced the most glorious Thanksgiving spread that anyone has ever seen. Or at least, that feast will be preserved in my memory that way: a sweet potato pie the color of sunrise with cartoon-like wisps of steam hovering above it. And us three, culinary superheroes, ready to fight one platter at a time.

When I cook for myself in the box-like kitchen of my dorm room, I mimic their motions. I stir pots and toss saucepans using my mother’s hands; I borrow my grandmother’s fingers to hold and chop. I examine chicken with their eyes to see if it’s cooked all the way through. I taste sauces through their lips. When I do something right I feel pride swell inside my chest. Pride and cooking are inextricably linked. There’s a sense of satisfaction in providing your own sustenance. Beyond that I feel pride because I can call my mother and say “You won’t believe what I just made. I wish you were here to see try it.” I may be twenty, but I will never be too old for my pride to balloon with the thought of my mother and grandmother eating something that I’ve made.

My memories may be coated in rose-colored varnish, but I relish in knowing that I have learned from masters, and if I close my eyes I can watch them turning eggs in a pan.

[1] Soon to be three.

United Plates of America

by Caroline Vexler

It’s likely that I’ll title most of my posts as puns because I enjoy clever phrases.

To me, the phrase “vote with your fork” is powerfully symbolic. It embodies the American ideal and in many ways the American reality. For most consumers in the United States, we are lucky enough to be in the position of being able to choose what we eat. We have access to a plethora of food streams, from grocery stores to farmer’s markets to restaurants to convenience stores to locally owned businesses to vending machines. We live in a world where our food selection is shaped almost exclusively by demand. The majority of Americans are not constrained by access to food in the same way that citizens of developing countries are, though there are food deserts. Americans aren’t limited to the crops that survived; we have access to most varieties of food year-round. We don’t have regular food shortages and most importantly, we don’t lose a large portion of our food due to poor transportation and storage facilities. Capitalism is often criticized for different and valid reasons, but it does work in the sense that we get to vote with our forks and our dollars. For the most part, we do get to vote with our forks, and that’s not something I take lightly.

The problem with all of the choice and freedom is that it masks the underlying issues, one of which we are making many bad food choices. I am just as guilty of this as the next person. I respect the food movement because it aims to reconnect Americans with their food. I’ve said this before on the blog and I’ll say it again. We have become so disconnected with our food that we barely recognize what it actually is or where it comes from. One of the most incredible things to me is that the agricultural sector is still exempt from many labor regulations because most people have an idealistic view of farm-life, and by extension their food sources. If the food movement is able to bridge that gap even a little bit, then I think that it’s a positive change. People need to be willing to pay more for food that is fairly, respectfully, and healthfully produced; other countries may see the movement as elitist or non-essential, and they may be right. However, the core values of the food movement are necessary, and will become increasingly important.

Terroir vs. Cross-Pollination

by Nina Buzby

I was lucky enough to have a bit of background knowledge while reading Trubek’s Taste of Place chapter on maple syrup. Molly Constanza Robinson is my advisor! Upon discussing the importance of mineral structure in soils and bedrock she discussed her involvement in Trubek’s described investigation of maple syrup. I was enthralled then and just as enthralled while reading the contextual details of Trubek’s piece. I noticed that my enthusiasm mimicked a feeling I had during our 5th day last week while visiting High Mowing Seed Farm in Craftsbury, VT. This organic seed farm particularly peaked my interest because we were learning just how much you could breed for in a seed. Not just disease resistance or size, but color consistency and different taste profiles. As the farmer was explaining, my mind began to swim with all the tracks of qualities they were dealing with at once. What struck me as most poignant was their work to prevent cross pollination.

High Mowing plants that are not self-pollinators are kept miles apart from one another. This way a ‘pure’ strain of seed is produced and no hybrid species occurs. Right next to our little crowd was a patch of crops that the farmer pointed out was let out for infinite cross pollination. This juxtaposition of strict separation and ultimately “wild” crossing reminded me of Trubek’s untangling and mental separation of syrup in combination with the blended brands.

I’m left with the question of what to value more, and even more so why value hierarchically? The French idea of terrior allows a stronger culture and attachment to local foods, but, as we have seen, local food is currently seen as a luxury that isn’t universally accessible by all socio-economic classes. Does the idea of terroir apply too much of a ‘premium’ quality to be as ubiquitous as necessary? Or is it a strong enough connection to tradition that the benefits of conservation are enough?

I feel a little stuck. I’ve always seen cross-pollination with a positive connotation – interdisciplinary is THE definition of my major (and probably Molly Costanza-Robinson’s favorite word). However, pure and traditional have just as beneficial associations. Usually my values lie with what is more sustainable, but I’m not finding any sort of front runner. Food is intrinsically linked with tradition and familiar tastes, as shown through Berry’s piece, although collaboration amongst cultures generates amazing new tastes and practices. Ultimately this is a list of clashing good ideas and I’m not sure which one to choose, or if to choose at all.

A Balancing Act

by Sarah Wall

We often read about issues of class, race, and gender, but it’s challenging to understand them beyond a theoretical perspective until you are actively involved in these issues on the ground. When we leave the desk and enter the field, learning occurs in an exciting, engaging and stimulating manner. We enter into unchartered territory with a few tools to help navigate. This kind of learning also becomes so much more personal. Reality hits, and it hits hard. It plucks those inner emotional chords; it resonates and rings with you for a while. I’ve had similar experiences before; that is the beauty of a liberal arts education. Sometimes I’ve had an outlet to discuss them. On other occasions I’ve decided to keep them to myself. I’m learning to articulate my thoughts and appreciate that this course has encouraged me to do so weekly. Most importantly, I otherwise would not have felt so intimately connected to these topics if it were not for the opportunity I have to be learning directly about food justice in Washington, D.C.

These were a powerful set of readings that exposed some of the controversial underpinnings of the food justice movement. They made me deeply question our current approach to addressing food inequality. Agyeman accurately explains the uniqueness of food and its relevance to place, asserting that “there is likely no other resource required for human survival that is as culturally bound yet so dependent upon material realities of the natural environment” (217). We always want to do the right thing, but how can we really know what that is? I think former congresswoman Eva Clayton does an excellent job of explaining the balancing act that our government policy makers and community organizations must deal with. She says, “as far as policies, we have to make sure programs are equally available to all communities—they don’t outwardly discriminate but they [are not] aggressively inclusive so there must be evidence that they are doing outreach to the most vulnerable communities” (Clayton in Ammons 16). The goals of food justice and neoliberalism are easily intertwined, and I keep returning to questions that many people involved in these efforts often ask: who are we helping, and who are we hurting? Who are we serving, and what do they really want?

Theories of change are only really effective when they recognize and center on the needs and interests of every person they are trying to positively impact. This requires the change maker, program developer, policy maker, activist, etc. to put themselves in another person’s shoes and think critically about how their mission is going to help resolve the fundamental, underlying issues that are affecting the people they would like to serve. This is much easier said than done.

I would agree with Agyeman that food justice organizations are often working within a neoliberal infrastructure, which is nearly impossible to break away from. Many community organizations that would like to help address these issues have limited resources and rely on grants as well as support from more privileged members of the community to move forward. For these reasons, it’s very easy to buy into the “alternative food movement” that is indirectly “re-creating and reproducing the socioeconomic and racial inequalities that exist in the system” (Agyeman 213). However, the end goal for these organizations is not to make a profit but to build a community. I agree that we need to be looking through an urban political ecology lens in order to find this balance that Eva Clayton describes. Supplemental food programs, like WIC and SNAP, address the symptoms of the inequalities that are present in a community. But, in order to move towards rebuilding our broken food system, we need to focus on the political, social and economic inequalities that divide our communities. I think there is hope that community spaces, like Common Good City Farm where I am working this summer, can help to maintain this balance as they encourage neighbors to connect with one another and work towards a common goal of not only growing food but building a strong and resilient community.

Reflecting, Revealing, Revisioning

by Ruijia Wang

Based on this week’s readings, I have gained a deeper understanding of the US food system through the lens of food justice. All of the reading materials revealed the embedded structural and racial problems within our society. It is necessary for people to be aware of the invisible roots of the food insecure by digging into the surface of the “symptom” unjust access to food. Lack of cultural understandings and effective coordination grounded the potential dangers to our food system. This is not refers to just one party who has the privilege, but mutual respects from both entities regardless of race, age, education, income, social standings, etc. It is hard to do than tell once the privileged group dominate the conversation and do not listen to the other party. In essence, there is no true equity in our society. Yet, we can make the change to minimize the gap for people who are underserved and use the complementary strengths to give back. Cultural understanding is the basis of alleviating the conflicts among different interests group of people in this increasing globalization world. This includes empowering, compassion and effective leadership to bring a diverse background people work together. We all can take actions and influence the people who surrounded by us in our daily lives. From the food system perspective, food producers might consider how to embrace people from different backgrounds engage in the farm work and treat people with dignity; food scientists might think about how to market the food products through a socially and culturally appropriate way; food distributors might consider not only the effective way of delivering food, but also considering how to build and maintain the trusting relationships through a culturally appropriateness support.

Food system goes hand in hand with the economic structure, and collaborative efforts from different partner relations. It is based on both social network and local communities. Yet, the challenges we face ahead are based on global markets so we shall deepen cooperation globally and empower the people who work for us. As the more work we have done on revealing our own privileges, the more we could done to help others and ourselves. Everyone plays a role in building a healthier and more sustainable food system in our society. While seeing food is a system of communications, we will need community collective efforts to face the challenges together by inclusion the voices and commitment to

by Madyson Martin

Food Justice is a long and complicated topic.  It has always baffled me and has caused me to think, think more, and rethink my position and views on it.  Coming to D.C. in May, I did not have any clue how serious food deserts and poverty levels were.  I lived in my own bubble where the kroger and whole foods were a few minutes away and mom and dad would be able to drive there any day of the week to pick up the ingredient we were missing for dinner.

My job here in D.C. is for a place that helps serve people who cannot afford purchasing their own food, medical care, legal, social services. It helps provide these things with dignity and by trying to incorporate these people’s choice and control as much as possible.  I have really fallen into liking this way of doing things because people who need this kind of help do not want to be in this position.  They rarely have control over what life events have brought them to this point, so our company, Bread for the City, tries to create an eviornment which helps the clients feel as though they can make their own choices and therefore help control what kinds of foods they are getting and how they are being processed.

Clients are allowed to grow their own produce on the rooftop and also are given options in the food pantry, I like this idea of dignity and choices. This is a small scheme in food justice and is one company, but other places like Bread for the City are popping up all around the country.  These kinds of places give programs like educational programs, social programs, and networking programs to enable clients to get back on their feet.  This is ultimately the goal.  I think that feeding people and reacting in emergency programs is great, but I also think that we need to be directly focused on getting people on their feet and setting them up for long-term success and not just emergency situational feeding.