Warren James Belasco

A collection of essays spanning the nineteenth century into the modern era, each attempting to trace the origins of some food or food-related cultural practice. Most are unsuccessful. There are two problems with this book. One, it's poorly edited. Aside from "food" and "culture," the essays chosen have nothing in common; reading one will not help the reader understand any of the others. They're each very specifically focused: avocado marketing techniques in twentieth century USA are right next to colonialist struggles for authenticity in Belize, which butt up against a discourse on how much value food industries actually add by preparing foods. They come from a variety of very different fields, with different rhetorical styles and underpinning assumptions. They don't connect to each other at all. Two, the essays themselves are pretty lackluster. The topics are generally interesting, thescholarship is ok, but the writing is, by-and-large, substandard.

The two that stuck in my mind as readable were Richard R Wilk's "Food and Nationalism: The Origins of 'Belizean Food'" and Tracey Deutsch's "Untangling Alliances: Social Tensions Surrounding Independent Grocery Stores and the Rise of Mass Retailing." Wilk argues, "The indigenous Mayan culture of Belize was largely exterminated before the colony was established, so there was no existing tradition to refer back to, and the slaves did not have provision grounds on which to base a reconstructed African diet...From the time of its first settlement, Belize has also been a multiethnic polyglot place, which poses particular problems for the emergence of national culture...Also, Belize has legally been a nation only since independence in 1981, an event followed quickly by the arrival of satellite television, offshore banking, and hundreds of foreign tourists. How could there ever be a national cuisine when there was no national culture?" Wilk then proceeds to lay out the process of adaptations and combinations that created a shared, Creolized food practices. It's complicated by issues of class and race, naturally, and driven strongly by colonialism, and it is utterly fascinating. I've never been to Belize or eaten Belizean food, however, so I can't swear to accuracy.

Deutsch's essay also deals with race, class, and immigration, with a bunch of gender dynamics thrown in as well. Her argument is that grocery store chains were able to successfully wipe out small, locally owned stores in much of Chicago because shopping in the small stores was complicated, politicized, and fraught with tension. Members of minority groups were exhorted to buy from members of their group, even when it was less convenient or cheap to do so, while differences in race, ethnicity or religion between shop-keepers and their customers were a spark-point for a lot of expressions of xenophobia and anti-Semitism. The shopkeepers knew every customer, and what each customer bought, and so there was very little privacy--people would instantly and easily know what a new bride served her in-laws, for example. Chain stores de-personalized these interactions, defusing them, and this, Deutsch says, is an important component of their success.

I'm glad I read this book, but it was very much a mixed-bag.… (mehr)

As someone hopelessly smitten by the "wanderlust" virus, I am more than sympathetic to Americans' peripatetic impulses: the "grass is greener" syndrome , if you will. The desire to escape current and mundane responsibilities and see new places is ingrained in the American spirit. The automobile is like crack to a traveler providing freedom and unlimited possibilities.

The car became an escape from modernity, represented by the railroad, and modern industrial society uses sightseeing (the author quotes sociologist Daen MaCannell) to turn artifacts of the industrial revolution "into tourist attractions. . . In Williamsburg, Rockefeller oil money pre3serves colonial candleworks; in New Mexico, government billboards direct motorists to Indian ruins. Such exhibits protect modernity in two ways: by confirming the optimist's belief in progress and the pessimist with the unattainable past."

It's ironic that trains, symbol of modernity, were viewed in many respects the same way we view airplanes today: too fast, no way to stop and stretch one's legs, unnatural, can't see the countryside except in a very limited way, claustrophobic, etc. There was a nostalgia for being closer to nature (you know mosquitoes, ticks, sunburn, sweat, stuff like that.) Motoring in the early 20th century was best with difficulty: flat tires, breakdowns, lousy roads, lots of mud after it rained and often washed out bridges. Hotels along the way often required dress codes and motorists who arrived covered in dust and grime from the way, were looked down on. These difficulties were considered a positive by many. "Ordeal was considered an escape from luxury." and "we grow weary of our luxuries and conveniences," were prevailing justifications for hardship. But as Emily Post said, "ordeal was good for character." (Such bullshit.)… (mehr)

I selected this book as yet another in a short line (very short) of food-related texts I occasionally check out with the faintest hope of informing better dietary choices (shall we say, it’s a rather slow season for us architects – even to the alarming degree that I now do much of the family grocery shopping… fortunately armed with excruciatingly detailed lists authored by the wife). Well written overall, the historical aspect of this story is very interesting. Belasco traces the “countercusine’s” rise from the days of Digger Papers, and subsequent commune organic-gardening societies. As the “underground” recipe books and what not multiply, the “squares” and food industry peeps take a defensive position against the “nuts” and “freaks” until they (or, indeed, the aging nuts and freaks themselves) figure out ways to subsume the concept of healthy dietary options into profitably processed grocery items. US citizens blindly rely upon government recommendations and studies regarding sundry chemical additives – a mostly floundering structure heavily compromised by the wallets and clout of the Pillsbury Doughboy, Ronald the clown, and their ambiguously conceived cohorts. Cynicism inevitably prevails with all the official flip-flopping and designations such as “natural” and “organic” are increasingly slathered across the packaging of Oreos, microwavable Salisbury steak and Frito Lites. A twisted cycle certainly.

The author isn’t as negative as my re-presentation probably implies. The fact that people generally acknowledge processed foods as not yielding the best nutritional benefits is something that was apparently less certain circa 1962. Options for dining have expanded exponentially and even Wendy’s host salad bars. Whereas Belascos does betray a bit of cynicism and is admittedly biased as he falls more firmly within the “fruit and twig” camp, I felt this to be an even-keeled historical account of the countercusine’s emergence over a twenty year period. He positions a typically underhanded Industrial Food Complex against a progressive countermovement often defined by inarticulate posturing (the short-lived organic food-based communes seemed as much about propitiating a male-centrist society as offering any real alternative structure; the women still handled the arduous task of food prep while the men exploited the free-love paradigm to get laid a lot). This is a development – or awakening – fraught with controversy, ups and downs, and indecisiveness.

Though this covers a twenty years period ending twenty years ago, strangely there doesn’t seem to be much change in outlook beyond more Farmer’s Markets and the Trans Fat bans (my wife recently bought "Omega 3 Peanut Butter" for God's sake!). Towards the conclusion, I had even forgotten that this wasn’t fairly new until he mentioned the “Reagan/Bush” administrations. What do I know? My dietary preferences align more with the house-on-wheels set than the patrons of South End bistros. Every third TV commercial this week uses Biz Markie’s one-hit song so maybe it is 1989! While posting this, I noticed that Goodreads lists an updated (2006) version so I suppose I would definitely recommend unless, like me, you rely upon a major library system - in which case you may have to wait until 2029 (“Biz Markie – Live at Foxwoods!”) to score a copy.… (mehr)