ColumnThe book “Provence, 1970′” documents a moment with America’s culinary greats; but how much has American food really changed since then?

In the late 1960s and early 1970s, America saw a culinary change. This was the time of people like Julia Child, advocating for mastering dishes at home, eating real food, honoring fresh ingredients instead of the canned phenomenon of the 1950s. It was also the time of the rise in food consciousness, with more and more people making links between what they ate and the effects on the environment. “The Whole Earth Cookbook,” and “Diet for a Small Planet” both came out in the early 1970s.

I recently finished reading “Provence, 1970: M. F. K. Fisher, Julia Child, James Beard, and the Reinvention of American Taste“, a book about a singular moment when some of the culinary greats were all in the same place at the same time, a time that also happened to be a turning point.

In the book there is a lot of talk about the changing of American food culture, shifting to better ingredients, more artisan practices and the push to more food consciousness. Reading it you feel as if there is hope for the future. And then you close the book and take a look at reality.

The book is a wonderful read, a moment in history captured in words, images and foods. But what struck me while reading it was how current all the topics in the book were. We’re still having these exact same conversations about food. We still deal with the same snobbery. There’s still a food media that’s largely separated from the realities of the everyday cook. Julia Child wrote a letter to James Beard in which she noted that her audiences on the West Coast “could care less about the East Coast and The New York Times. They have their own lives and own good papers, and we’re not reaching them atallatall if we stay put.” I can’t help but think of the recent response to Mark Bittman’s article on eating and shopping in California.

How much has American food culture changed since the 1970s? Read this book and you can feel the hopefulness. All these culinary greats who changed the way a lot of America thought about food excited about the possibility of better foods in the homes of their readers.

I wonder what they would think looking at food culture now. Processed foods, microwave dinners, factory farm meat. I felt a little despair while finishing the book, questioning really how far we had come from a few decades earlier. Are we any wiser? Have we learned from history? Or are we pursuing a deadly path, with high end gastronomy on one side, and processed food on the other? Have we really embraced the fact that what we eat affects the world that we live in? Or is it something we say while we look the other way and indulge our impulses? Have we found a balance where good ingredients are available to everyone?

Certainly, there’s a widespread push to better eating, but there’s also no denying that we live in a world of extremes, the Michelin stars who drive the food media on one end and the corporate, processed, fast food and food industry business on the other.

Do you have to be well off to eat well? No, but look at any food media these days with their glossy photos and complicated ingredients and it certainly feels like it. Watch your average cooking show and it’s a far cry from promoting anything healthy; there it’s just about being sensational. And look at large food businesses who can spend millions, even billions, getting people to consume their products, even though those food products are fueling the obesity epidemic.

How much has American food changed since the 1970s? It has changed enormously. But I can’t help but wonder if people like Julia Child and M.F.K. Fisher were here today, what they would think about our shopping and eating habits. I sure as hell think they’d be concerned about our sugar consumption.

We’ve evolved. We have moved past serving aspics at dinner parties. But are we really at a place where real food is accessible to everyone? We still have a lot of work to do. Maybe it’s time we turned around and looked backwards to pick up a few hints on how to do better. Smaller quantities, fresher ingredients, and a better enjoyment of food. Real food. That’s what Julia would want.

Related on EcoSalon

Do You Have to Be Well Off to Eat Well? Foodie Underground

Important Food Lessons from Julia Child

What if We Ate Like it Was 1990? Foodie Underground

This is the latest installment of Anna Brones’ weekly column at EcoSalon: Foodie Underground, an exploration of what’s new and different in the underground movement, and how we make the topic of good food more accessible to everyone. More musings on the topic can be found at www.foodieunderground.com.

Image: Classic Film

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Hummus and other foods as quintessential nut busters.

One thing we can all agree on is that for the most part, human existence is life in a grotesque series of soul-crushing indignities punctuated by intermittent, alternating bouts of boredom and suffering. All this yet you refuse to make things a little bit easier on yourself, instead insisting upon mediocrity at every turn.

With that, please stop eating protein bars; you’re going to die someday and that will be the end of you. Try to snatch a moment of pleasure in between the twin blacknesses of the cradle and the grave. You are a human being and the entire universe is an unending frozen scream; don’t make things harder than they already are. You can do better than this – you will do better. Keep some of the following precepts in mind and throw a wrench in the Machine.

Assuming you still have a job, and assuming said job takes place in an office building – please stop eating microwaveable oatmeal at your desk every morning. It’s hard enough watching someone make breakfast at the office, but the fact that it’s oatmeal somehow makes it worse. You already have to eat lunch here, you’re actually going to deprive yourself of the few moments of peace breakfast affords you by heating up a packet of oatmeal in a ceramic mug? You don’t even put it in a bowl! It’s the same mug you use for your coffee. I can see you giving up on joy before my very eyes.

Greek yogurt. Remember when everyone was still mad at yogurt for being bland and watery and marketed in a weirdly sexist fashion? Women rose up en masse and declared that nobody was going to confuse a picture of a slice of Boston Cream Pie with decadence.

But now yogurt is back, and that’s awful. Every company is selling their own version of Greek yogurt (it tastes the same, but thicker! Mmm) and touting the increased protein content. Did you know that no one ever in the history of anything has ever gotten enough protein? It’s true. If you are a woman, your mother has asked you this question at least once a week for the entirety of your adult life (“You know, I’ve been feeling kind of tired latel–” “ARE YOU EATING ENOUGH PROTEIN? I’M SENDING YOU A ROAST CHICKEN MADE OF STEAK EGGS AND TURKEY WRAPS!”). If you are a vegetarian or a vegan, it gets even worse. Complete strangers will dash across the street, flinging themselves at you, screaming, “But your protein, where do you get your protein from!”

Sorry, John Stamos, but I’m not buying it. Yogurt isn’t a naughty, sensual treat I get for being a woman and you have dead eyes.

Coconut water. You didn’t listen when I tried to warn you about kombucha, so I have no idea why I think you’ll listen now. All I’ll say is it’s utterly mystifying that you would shell out $4 for a Tetra-Pak of cloying and vapid coconut water when coconut milk is both cheaper and more delicious (you can put it in both coffee and curry; can you do that with your precious coconut water?). Fine; do what you want; it’s your life.

The discrepancy between hummus‘ perceived value and its actual value is staggering. It’s a bunch of chickpeas that have been mushed together with extruded, viscous sesame juice and oil to form a mucilaginous paste. “Oooh,” you protest, “it’s got little hunks of dried-out garlic mixed in, I must be having fun.”

You are already dead and in Hell, though you do not know it.

By rights it is no better than spinach and artichoke dip, and yet many people – people who, under ordinary circumstances, appear to possess a fully functioning sense of aesthetics – accord it the enthusiasm ordinarily reserved for V-E Day. Try this little experiment sometime: throw a party and tell half your guests you’ll be serving “dip” (no need to get specific). Watch them show moderate enthusiasm and say something along the lines of, “I’ll try to make it.”

Now for the other half of your guests – tell them they can expect homemade hummus. The men will start to weep unashamedly; the women will spontaneously turn into brightly colored songbirds. Everyone will lose their minds. It’s as if you promised them a personal benediction from Alice Waters. But by what rights does hummus hold such a claim on the human imagination?

“But,” you equivocate, “you haven’t tried my hummus. I like to use white beans and a little bit of–” No. Shh. “There’s this wonderful Mediterranean market on 34th that does–” Hush now. Stop talking. I’m sure your method of whirling beans together is both glorious and unique, but hummus can never become anything better than itself.

Hummus is grey and tan and dull; it is the color of hopelessness. Dip your pre-sliced carrot sticks in something – anything – else. It is a lie designed to convince you that you are having fun; it is not an adequate substitute for joy.

Now go outside, if it’s nice out where you are, and eat something wonderful.

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ColumnAre we finally getting to a place where we’re starting to have a real American food identity?

While reading an interview with a Swedish food stylist and cookbook author, Monica Eisenman, this week, I was interested to read her comment in reference to American food.

“I’m also inspired by the USA. People think that there’s no food culture there, but there is.”

I am certainly personally at fault for perpetuating this idea. Most times that I launch into a conversation about why we have so much bad food in our American system, I often talk about the lack of deep seeded food roots. Yes, we have plenty of heavy food influences that have made their way down the line from generation upon generation of people that have moved here from around the world, but when it comes down to it, we don’t really have any defining food traditions.

That’s not entirely true. We have hamburgers and hotdogs, but when we’re asked to give a definition of American cuisine we’re still hard pressed to list of a handful of core culinary dishes and values.

But Eisenman’s word are room for inspiration; if someone on the outside thinks we’re doing something right, we need to keep doing it, tweaking it, and perfecting it until we get to a place where we all feel like we have a food culture to be proud of.

Fortunately, we’ve got a clean slate on our hands, and it doesn’t have to be filled by professional chefs and fancy restaurants. When I think of the things that are defining American food right now, I come up with multiple results, with everything from locavores to vegans to cupcake lovers to Paleolithic diets. These aren’t all trends that I’m in love with, but they’re all things that other places are paying attention to, and the variety proves that we have plenty of culinary options to choose from when defining our food identity. We don’t always have to be known for double cheeseburgers with bacon.

A couple of movements that could be game changers for our American food identity:

Farmers Markets

I am hearing a general sigh coming from anyone that’s traveled to Europe; “But plenty of other countries have had markets for years, that’s nothing special.” Yes, this is true, but without the farmers market movement in the U.S. we might be nowhere near a track to defining our food identity. Farmers markets have gotten us to truly think about our food, where it comes from and whose hands have touched it. And they’ve put the focus back on the independent, American farmer, an individual that we almost lost along the way of agribusiness.

Farmers markets have been a breeding ground for discussion – a discussion that has been very much needed, and for that, farmers markets should continue to get the credit they deserve.

Locavorism

Supporting your local economy isn’t just important for the food system, it’s crucial for building community. Farmers markets and a heightened awareness of sustainability issues have made everything “local” super hot on the food list, and that has benefited society as a whole. But just because something is locavore, doesn’t mean it always has to be grown, sewn and cooked within a ten-mile radius, and here’s why our version of the trend is so very American.

We’ve revived the notion of gathering our goods from close to home – something many other countries would never ponder as anything spectacular – and we’ve mixed it into our own melting pot that we’ve come to love. That means everything from fair trade coffee beans, hand roasted locally and delivered by bike to hole-in-the-wall must-sees that are staples in the local dining community.

The “Frees”

Gluten free, dairy free, wheat free, nut free… In the U.S. it’s getting easier and easier to find alternatives to foods that for some are harmful. We’re getting better and better about labeling, and people are thinking more creatively about what they eat, often for the better.

Without launching into a discussion about everyone’s personal opinion on exactly what we should and shouldn’t eat – “to be vegan, or not to be vegan?” that seems to be the ongoing question – a society that has to put limits on its food for dietary reasons is going to be forced to get creative. We can argue that our bad food habits may have gotten us in this place to begin with, but moving forward I know that I am personally thankful to have added gluten free cake (try this recipe for starters), and dairy free mousse (made with avocado and coconut milk) to my cooking repertoire.

Artisanal Everything

Be it liqueurs, cheeses or kombucha, the new food revolution is happening right in people’s own kitchens, backyards and basements. That’s promising for our food identity because it means that everyone can take part, not just the gastronomic elite — amateur is still in. And what you make doesn’t have to get sold at the local market, it just has to be something that you love and get excited about sharing with your friends.

Children

When First Lady of the United States Michelle Obama gets behind food policy for kids, you know a step has been taken in the right direction. If we want to talk about changing our food system, and our food identity, it certainly has to start from the ground up and that means educating kids about healthy food as well as making sure they have access to it and know what to do with it.

Companies like Choice Lunch are ensuring that it’s easy to get fresh, local fare into the hands of babes, and there are even cooking classes, some even with a French flair, geared at the younger generation.

When it comes to our food identity, we’ve got the tools, it’s just up to us to determine what they will be used for.

Editor’s note: This is the latest installment of Anna Brones’s weekly column at EcoSalon, Foodie Underground, discovering what’s new and different in the underground food movement, from supper clubs to mini markets to the culinary avant garde.

Images: Marshall Astor, Anna Brones

The post Foodie Underground: What’s Our Food Identity? appeared first on EcoSalon.

ColumnWhy is it that America is only known for hamburgers and hot dogs when we have a burgeoning foodie culture?

A surprising discovery when I lived in France was L’Americain. In the land of gourmet cheeses and perfected baguettes, food is more than something that you just consume for nourishment; it’s art. Which is why I was a little shell-shocked the first time I came across L’Americain, a late night favorite, post-pop music dance party, made up of a baguette stuffed with hamburger meat, french fries and ketchup.

If the French vision of American food had been unclear before, after this particular sandwich run in, it was very clear. For the French, there was no point in glorifying this version of junk street food, when they could just call it what they thought it represented: America.

As a nation, we have often been at the bottom of the list of culinary tradition. Sure, at home we’ve created a foodie culture and mastered combining dishes from around the world, but abroad, there remains a view that we’re all about pizza, hot dogs and chips. Our global foodie reputation is defined more by sugar and fat than by local ingredients with a cosmopolitan twist.

In fact, enter any “American” food store in another country and you’ll get a handful of classic ingredients. I’ve seen everything from swirled jars of peanut butter and jelly to marshmallow cream (things my American counterparts would never dream of buying at home), and much less abroad. But the international crowd loves this stuff. One of my best Swedish friends has specifically requested that next time I come visit she wants Reese’s Miniatures and several bags of Sour Patch Kids.

What is it that has made the rest of the world crave some of our most terrible exports and glaze over our more respectable creations? You don’t see Alice Waters shrines or bookshelves stocked with Mark Bittman translations abroad, but you’ll most certainly come across a sampling of the following.

Hamburgers

McDonald’s has swept the world like a virus, but it’s not just Big Macs that have made their way around the world. Grab an “American” menu in Southeast Asia and you’re sure to find some version of a meat patty wrapped in a bun. For some reason this American classic has other people hooked, albeit poor spellings on menus and misconceptions of what a bun should look like.

Pringles

It’s not just chips in general, but there’s something about “once you pop you can’t stop,” that has seduced the international consumer. Turns out they’re marketed in at least a hundred countries and bring in $1 billion in sales. Sure, in other countries the packaging is often smaller,  because other places know better than to serve up ten servings in one container that we’re sure to down in a single sitting — but those brightly colored canisters with the goofy, mustached man are all over the place.

Mediocre – yet complicated – coffee drinks

Leave it to the global coffee chain Starbucks to make it perfectly acceptable to order a caramel machiatto in countries where coffee consumption is holy. The result is, well, abhorrent. Thanks to the chain it’s trendy to cruise the streets of Paris with a disposable cup and you can now buy Frappacinos in Guatemala. The company’s new instant product alone was responsible for $100 million in global sales last year.

Peanut Butter

It seems like such a staple product and yet for many it’s a luxury. Some love it and some hate it, but peanut butter to Europeans is just as exotic as caviar and foie gras are to many Americans. Try tracking it down outside of the U.S. and you’ll have a difficult time, and yet somehow, everyone knows about it. A former, very typical French roommate of mine (he wouldn’t dream of keeping his smelly cheeses in the refrigerator), thought there was nothing better on his weekend brioche than some good old Jiffy, imported by friends of course.

But forget our foodie reputation for a second.

Although it would be great to be known for all the fantastic, organic and healthy items that many American chefs whip up on a daily basis, wanting to be respected for our food culture is almost a little vain. What we should be more concerned with is how we’re physically impacting the rest of the world.

With obesity rates skyrocketing around the world, and often attributed to imported food, maybe it’s time we took a step back and asked ourselves what we want our global food influence to be.

Hot dogs and high fructose corn syrup? Changing what’s on our plates at home has a larger influence than we may think.

This is the latest installment of Anna Brones’s column at EcoSalon, Foodie Underground, taking a conscious look at what’s bubbling in the underground food movement, from supper clubs to mini markets to the culinary avant garde.

Images: USDA China, permanently scatterbrained, Brett L., Like_the_Grand_Canyon, Alaivani, egarc2

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It was a warm and humid afternoon, and all I wanted was an iced coffee. Being from the Northwest, I’m used to drive-through coffee shops in even the most podunk of towns, but now I was in the heart of the Louisiana Bayou, and there wasn’t any type of coffee shop to be found. Instead there was “The Chill Out,” a small white building facing the road, with a multi-colored flag sporting an ice cream cone hanging from the window and a flashing red light on the porch.

A house turned into a frozen-treat mecca, The Chill Out had a wall facing the road with a long list of “snowball flavors,” ranging from Tiger Blood (I’m not quite sure exactly what that entails!) to watermelon. A snowball is the classic treat of this region, shaved ice doused in sugary flavoring. I assumed this meant sweet, fruity flavors, so my eyes did a double take when I read “dill pickle” on the list. I imagined what dill-pickle sorbet would taste like and cringed. Had I missed something? When had salty brine become an additive to summer iced treats?

But two weeks later, I’m finding that consuming salty, briny, distinctively flavored items out of their normal context isn’t as odd as I thought. In fact, it’s downright popular. Take Kraut Juice for example, found by the foodies over at The Kitchn, which is apparently prevalent in the Midwest. What does one do with kraut juice besides scrunch up your nose and move on? Make some tomato tang and enjoy.

If that doesn’t strike your fancy, how about Pickle Juice Sport? That’s right, you can refuel your electrolytes and prevent cramping after a serious workout with this salty drink.

Not ready for bottled juices? You might want to start easy with something like pickle pops, another delicacy that I had never heard of until the dill pickled snowball fiasco. “We used to freeze pickle juice in ice-cube trays all the time when I was little… it’s sooo good!” exclaimed one friend, a Mississippi native. I have yet to try it, but according to the blogosphere, those pickle pops are all the rage.

Ingredients

Dill pickle juice

Preparation

Fill ice-cube tray with pickle juice, and add in a popsicle stick or toothpick to each cube. Freeze and enjoy.

And you thought kombucha was weird…

Editor’s note: This is the latest installment of Anna Brones’s column at EcoSalon, Foodie Underground. Each week, Anna will be taking a look at something new and different that’s taking place in the underground food movement, from supper clubs to mini markets to culinary avant garde.

Images: sleepyneko, The Kitchn

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