As Warren Belasco, in his essay “Food Matters: Perspectives on an Emerging Field” states that “food indicates who we are, what we came from, and who we want to be” (2). The strong link between food and memory make cuisine one of the most logical ways that people associate with their history, on both an individual and a national scale. People who consume foods unique to or common in their culture are regularly reminded of their place of origin in a comprehensive sensory experience. During a meal, sight, smell, and taste are used to experience foods. If the individual prepares the food, or if it is eaten with the hands, touch may also be used. Hearing is also an important part of the preparation of food. Consider, for example, the rhythmic pounding of a mortar and pistil or the popping of microwave popcorn, the sizzle of meat as it hits a wok. The experience of reproducing a dish can remind the individual of other sensory experiences related with the first; the sights and smells of the location where the food was prepared, the ritual of the family meal, and other customary familial traditions.
The sensory link between food and memory produces food conservatism by informing food habits throughout life. Comprehensive sensory perception is used to identify oneself from the other, thus establishing individual identity. Benjamin Aldes Wurgaft, in his article “Incensed: Food Smells and Ethnic Tension,” gives the example of immigrants to Ellis Island, who claimed to identify one another on the boat not be sight but by smell. He continues that any person tied to the old world by the scent of their cuisine was not considered fully American by the Americans themselves or their immigrant contemporaries (58). While a diner can choose what they will allow to enter their mouths, they cannot choose what enters their nose. This lack of autonomy is perhaps what has caused ethnic food smells to bear the brunt of xenophobia. People often make choices about their food consumption or food pairings based upon what is familiar, rejecting the unknown.
These identities centered on food are usually established early in an individual’s life. The patterns associated with food preferences and aversions are often associated with childhood, where socialization to eating habits defines an individual’s future food choices. The internalization of childhood tastes guarantee that likings formed in early development endure the longest. The food we eat as children will remain forever what defines, for us, familiarity and comfort. It did not escape my notice that a lot of the food that people brought to class- Rosealee’s tortillas and Marlyn’s flan- were foods that they had enjoyed in childhood. Repeatedly I heard people bringing up favorite foods that they had as children, and also how changing those food habits somehow signified their transition from childhood to adulthood, as individuals capable of making their own food choices.
By sharing a food dear to them with us, Rosealee and Marlyn were also sharing a part of themselves and their culture. Food is a social activity in every society around the world. The importance of food to intensifying group identity is reflected in language. The word “companion” literally means one with who bread is shared. The symbol of the common table exists in many cultures as the embodiment of communal trust, strengthening family and group ties. Family and community feasting during celebrations ritualize food and place it in a culturally sacred and iconic light, central to group traditions.
The differing food traditions in each culture also vary in their definition of what is considered edible or acceptable in the diet, which ties into the concepts of “taboo” that we discussed as a class. What an individual chooses to eat is therefore equally important to their cultural identity as what they choose not to eat. In some cases people will resist adapting to unfamiliar foods, even in dire circumstances. Fernández-Armesto, in his book Near a Thousand Tables, asserts that migrants resist the food of host communities, even to their great nutritional detriment. He gives the example of Japanese workers who migrated to Fiji to replace the local population, which had been killed off by measles. Although there were abundant foodstuffs, especially fruits and vegetables, he says, the workers tried to subsist on white rice, and as a result many died of beriberi, a disease of the nerves caused by a deficiency of Vitamin B (136). In the same passage, he claims that during the Korean War American POW died of malnutrition on a regular basis because they refused to eat the unfamiliar and repulsive rations (136).
Food is an important component of nationalistic sentiments. Food has an immense nostalgic value for people which may become intensified the further away they are from their country of origin. Nationalism and food have a complex relationship that developed after the establishment of the European nation-state, where flowering ideologies of nationalism contributed to an increase in the prevalence of distinct foodways attached to different nations. In the “Real Belizean Food” article that we read, Richard Wilk explains how food has been used in personal and political contexts in Belize to create a sense of nationhood, despite the shifting political and economic situation that undercuts Belizean autonomy. One of the more interesting questions that he asks of us is how something so intrinsically tied to identity formation can also be so fluid. This fluidity is described in Counehan and Helstocky as well. My hypothesis is that the meaning of identity is also very fluid, as economic and personal circumstances change people adapt, and their ideas of what they can, should, and do eat change and adapt as well. Andrea Rei’s example of the horror her husband displayed when she suggested he eat millet, what was for him the food of pigs (and of his poor ancestors), is a great example of this. If the economic, political, and situation circumstances change for an entire population that entire population changes as well.
The rigidity we perceive in food traditions is also at least partially constructed. We asked the question “can food have a nationality?” The answer lies definitively in the grey zone. After all, Indian curry is the preferred dish of the British (exceeding fish and chips in popularity), and the taco is the dish of L.A. Some dishes that were invented in the United States- like cioppino, pot roast, jambalaya, apple pie, hamburgers or clam chowder – are not the dishes that most Americans would say remind them of home.
A friend and I were traveling in Spain, and she remarked that she would really like to go to a McDonalds. “McDonalds?” I asked, horrified, “But you hate McDonalds. You never go to McDonalds when we are in the states.” “I know,” she replied, “but for some reason, when I’m this far away, it reminds me of home.” The increasingly sophisticated consumer population is aware that many of the things we consider to be “tradition” are in fact inventions of marketing campaigns. Though ideas of tradition, custom, soul, and terrior are at the very heart of the idea of national cuisine, the reality of these concepts is in large part modern marketing, capitalizing on nationalistic fervor to sell more products.
