During a recent exercise in school we learned about the Japanese art of obento, a single-portion meal packed in a box, traditionally consisting of rice, fish or meat, and one to several pickled or cooked vegetable sides. These meals are created and packed according to aesthetic rules, and the content varies according to the age level and location of the intended consumer. Although there are many versions of ready-made obento available for purchase in convenience stores, train stations, etc., a significant amount of time, energy, thought, and sometimes money may be spent by Japanese homemakers to create a beautiful obento for their children to take to school. Anthropologist Ann Allison writes about the subtle importance of obento in the formation of Japanese identity. Its creation and consumption works to reinforce a gendered state ideology, links the state and the family, and produces a form of surveillance through which a teacher may critique a mother's obento if it is not as nutritious or aesthetically pleasing as deemed necessary.
Learning about this type of Japanese lunch, with all its peripheral meanings, brought to mind not my own bagged lunch as a child, but my experiences creating lunch for the two children I watched while living in France. The boys, 4 and 7 at the time, ate lunch at school twice a week and at home three times a week. Two hours were given for the lunch break. At school or at home, lunch would consist of salad or soup, a main dish (protein, vegetables), dessert or cheese and, of course, bread. Following is a typical menu from home:
- Tomato and basil salad with extra virgin olive oil and sea salt
- Merguez sausage (we lived in southern France) and steamed potatoes with butter
- Cheese (we usually had several varieties in the cheese box) or a piece of seasonal fruit
There were some differences between the lunch the we ate at home and that which was served at school. I lived with a family that was very concerned with health and nutrition. We bought bread every morning from the local baker, the meat from the local butcher, and the vegetables and fruit from the market stand that was set up every Wednesday in the town square, and the cheese and other items from a larger market held on Saturdays in the neighboring town. The school, like many institutions in the United States, bought a lot of their items in bulk, the vegetables were sometimes pre-packaged mixed vegetables, the protein, just as often as not, was fish sticks, chicken nuggets, or hamburger patties. Dessert was usually fruit, but sometimes also consisted of pudding snacks, mini creme caramels, or the like.
What brought this to mind when learning about obento boxes was the amount of surveillance and concern the parents had for not only what their children were eating, but how they were eating it. Beyond healthy food, the family was also very concerned with preserving traditional French culture. During dinner at night we would perhaps discuss what they had learned in school, but we ALWAYS discussed what was eaten at lunch. This included a play-by-play analysis of the other children in the school and their eating habits; those who were unfortunate enough to have to not ever eat at home, those who ate at home but ate things like sandwiches, and those who, when they ate at school, refused to eat their vegetables, or took particular pleasure in eating things like pudding snacks.
At any mention of processed food the mother would roll her eyes or shake her head, the older sibling, a 13 year old that went to school in a town about 30 km away and always had to eat there, would sigh or, if it was some particularly offensive item, say "disgusting" under her breath. Implied with these sighs was the notion that these convenience foods were not French and a sign of the changing times and the encroachment of American culture on the French way of life. The boys, of course, internalized this, developing their sense of what was good and "French" to eat, and what was not. Even though I secretly knew that little Paul LOVED pudding snacks and would eye them longingly every time we went to the grocery store, even at 4 years old he would quickly pull himself back into line and say disparagingly "they taste like chemicals."
During a documentary at a French friend's house one evening one of the interviewees, and American, was eating a salad at her desk. The filmmakers had clearly caught her during lunchtime. "Oh my god," my friend exclaimed, "how can people live like that?" followed by the usual sighs. It took me a second to understand what he was so worked up about, but then quickly realized that the salad, sitting limply to the side, was the epitome of what French lunch was not. I shudder to think what he would have said had it been a happy meal.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Sunday, April 13, 2008
The Table Litmus Test
For me, sharing a meal with someone is a glimpse into what my future with them might hold.
It may seem presumptive, but the way people eat (and order) can tell you a lot about their personality, their likes and dislikes, in general, the way they live life and treat other people. I can tell if we will be friends forever, casual acquaintences, eventually perhaps dislike each other, maybe someday date, or perhaps that you are just not someone who will fit into my life...
Perhaps the most important question for me is whether someone is willing to share. This is an indication of whether someone is adventerous or not, and an excellent demonstration of someone's ability to compromise (or not), negotiate, and communicate. You can find out if someone is passive-aggressive, rigid, simply doesn't care about anything, or if they have a really hard time making decisions. When someone is as serious about what they are about to eat as I am, these negotiations can be quite intense.
How do you treat your server? Do you stop talking when they come over to ask you for a drink or tell you about the specials? Or are you so unaware of their presence that you just continue to talk over them or ignore them, forcing them to wait? Do you listen to them, or do they have to repeat themselves several times regarding the same question. (for instance: "I would like a Kettle One Martini." "I'm sorry, we don't have Kettle One. We have Absolut and Grey Goose." "Ok, I'll have Stoli. With a twist.") Do you say please and thank you to the people waiting on you? Manners at the table are a great indicator of a person's awareness of others. Do you notice when someones water or wine glass accross the table from you is empty and the bottle is sitting next to you? Do you let other people serve themselves first or do you dive right in?
Do you order the chicken? This question may seem strange, but people lose a serious number of attraction-points when they order the most boring thing on the menu. This may not, of course, be the chicken. If you have ever asked a variation of the question "what is the most normal thing on your menu?" you and I will never be friends.
When you pay the check do you just divide things evenly, or is it import for you to calculate, down to the penny, the exact amount for each person at the table? Are you asking the server to put $35.51 on one card and $38.20 on another? Trust me when I say that everything comes full circle--whether it be generousity or stinginess.
Some other questions:
Do you have a cocktail and wine? After dinner drinks? Nothing? Do you eat meat? How do you treat other people who make choices about their consumption habits that are different from yours?
How much do you tip?
If you come over for dinner, do you bring a bottle of wine? Do you offer to help with the dishes?
Do you complain loudly to the other diners at the table if you don't like something in a restaurant, but fail to tell the server when they asks you how your meal is?
Do you stack plates? Do you push your plate away from you, hand it to your server as they pass, or put your napkin on it when other people at the table are clearly still eating?
If something goes wrong with your meal (i.e. they bring you the wrong entree) how upset do you get? Basically, how much does it take to ruin the fun evening you are trying to have?
In the end, when I go out to have a meal, or cook one at home, I'm there to have a good time. My goal is not to judge; however, people are always gathering their impressions of others. For me, the most important of these impressions are gathered around the table.
It may seem presumptive, but the way people eat (and order) can tell you a lot about their personality, their likes and dislikes, in general, the way they live life and treat other people. I can tell if we will be friends forever, casual acquaintences, eventually perhaps dislike each other, maybe someday date, or perhaps that you are just not someone who will fit into my life...
Perhaps the most important question for me is whether someone is willing to share. This is an indication of whether someone is adventerous or not, and an excellent demonstration of someone's ability to compromise (or not), negotiate, and communicate. You can find out if someone is passive-aggressive, rigid, simply doesn't care about anything, or if they have a really hard time making decisions. When someone is as serious about what they are about to eat as I am, these negotiations can be quite intense.
How do you treat your server? Do you stop talking when they come over to ask you for a drink or tell you about the specials? Or are you so unaware of their presence that you just continue to talk over them or ignore them, forcing them to wait? Do you listen to them, or do they have to repeat themselves several times regarding the same question. (for instance: "I would like a Kettle One Martini." "I'm sorry, we don't have Kettle One. We have Absolut and Grey Goose." "Ok, I'll have Stoli. With a twist.") Do you say please and thank you to the people waiting on you? Manners at the table are a great indicator of a person's awareness of others. Do you notice when someones water or wine glass accross the table from you is empty and the bottle is sitting next to you? Do you let other people serve themselves first or do you dive right in?
Do you order the chicken? This question may seem strange, but people lose a serious number of attraction-points when they order the most boring thing on the menu. This may not, of course, be the chicken. If you have ever asked a variation of the question "what is the most normal thing on your menu?" you and I will never be friends.
When you pay the check do you just divide things evenly, or is it import for you to calculate, down to the penny, the exact amount for each person at the table? Are you asking the server to put $35.51 on one card and $38.20 on another? Trust me when I say that everything comes full circle--whether it be generousity or stinginess.
Some other questions:
Do you have a cocktail and wine? After dinner drinks? Nothing? Do you eat meat? How do you treat other people who make choices about their consumption habits that are different from yours?
How much do you tip?
If you come over for dinner, do you bring a bottle of wine? Do you offer to help with the dishes?
Do you complain loudly to the other diners at the table if you don't like something in a restaurant, but fail to tell the server when they asks you how your meal is?
Do you stack plates? Do you push your plate away from you, hand it to your server as they pass, or put your napkin on it when other people at the table are clearly still eating?
If something goes wrong with your meal (i.e. they bring you the wrong entree) how upset do you get? Basically, how much does it take to ruin the fun evening you are trying to have?
In the end, when I go out to have a meal, or cook one at home, I'm there to have a good time. My goal is not to judge; however, people are always gathering their impressions of others. For me, the most important of these impressions are gathered around the table.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
The Oyster
My first food memory is of the sea.
My parents would undoubtedly be surprised to learn this. They arechicken and rice people, spaghetti with tomato sauce people. But myfirst food memory is of eating the sea.
My brother and I were out on the beach, trapping the crabs. The crabsthat have several years to go before they would end up on a dinnerplate, ranging in size from your thumb nail to a ladybug. Weoverturned their rocks, and chased them down as they franticallyscurried for shelter, collecting them into large canning jars wherethey crawled over each other in desperation.
I was distracted from this endeavor, one of my favorites, by a group of adults. For the past few hours I had observed them digging a shallow hole in the sand, building a fire into which they threw rocks, then placing these now-hot rocks in a layer at the bottom of the hole, and covering that with a blanket of pacific sea kelp. Then, they poured some smaller rocks on top and folded the seaweed over them,tucking them in. This was not your normal adult beach activity.
Now I was drawn to them as they uncovered their small rocks and began cracking them open and….eating them? Curiosity overcame all my well-taught apprehension regarding strangers
What could this be? As I sidled towards the group, pretending to still be turning over rocks to find crabs, an older gentleman caught my eye and offered meone of their rocks.
When I held it in my hand I realized that it was not a rock at all. The inside was soft and pillow, a pale, pale grey. Gooey. I began torecoil, but the man said: eat it. He made a motion with his cuppedhand to demonstrate to me how I was supposed to tip this funny thinginto my mouth. Being the curious child that I was, or perhaps simply afraid, even at my young age, of rejecting hospitality so generously offered, I did.
There are few times as an adult when we get the chance to taste or see something unlike anything we have ever seen before. But I will always cherish the memory of my first oyster.
My parents would undoubtedly be surprised to learn this. They arechicken and rice people, spaghetti with tomato sauce people. But myfirst food memory is of eating the sea.
My brother and I were out on the beach, trapping the crabs. The crabsthat have several years to go before they would end up on a dinnerplate, ranging in size from your thumb nail to a ladybug. Weoverturned their rocks, and chased them down as they franticallyscurried for shelter, collecting them into large canning jars wherethey crawled over each other in desperation.
I was distracted from this endeavor, one of my favorites, by a group of adults. For the past few hours I had observed them digging a shallow hole in the sand, building a fire into which they threw rocks, then placing these now-hot rocks in a layer at the bottom of the hole, and covering that with a blanket of pacific sea kelp. Then, they poured some smaller rocks on top and folded the seaweed over them,tucking them in. This was not your normal adult beach activity.
Now I was drawn to them as they uncovered their small rocks and began cracking them open and….eating them? Curiosity overcame all my well-taught apprehension regarding strangers
What could this be? As I sidled towards the group, pretending to still be turning over rocks to find crabs, an older gentleman caught my eye and offered meone of their rocks.
When I held it in my hand I realized that it was not a rock at all. The inside was soft and pillow, a pale, pale grey. Gooey. I began torecoil, but the man said: eat it. He made a motion with his cuppedhand to demonstrate to me how I was supposed to tip this funny thinginto my mouth. Being the curious child that I was, or perhaps simply afraid, even at my young age, of rejecting hospitality so generously offered, I did.
There are few times as an adult when we get the chance to taste or see something unlike anything we have ever seen before. But I will always cherish the memory of my first oyster.
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