Thursday, November 5, 2009

I Come From This Pot: The Intersection of Culture and Cuisine in the Food System of Acadiana - Part 1


In its most transactional sense food is energy, a resource required for life to exist. If we leave the discussion at this point however, we risk missing a more profound aspect of what food means in the larger cultural sense. Food is a signifier of cultural status, inclusion, and class, but it helps us to understand who we are through a deep systemic set of activities and spaces. Wendell Berry reminds us:

A culture is not a collection of relics or ornaments, but a practical necessity, and its corruption invokes calamity. A healthy culture is a communal order of memory, insight, value, work conviviality, reverence, aspiration. It reveals the human necessities and the human limits. It clarifies our inescapable bonds to the earth and to each other. It assures that the necessary restraints are observed, that the necessary work is done, and that it is done well (Berry, 1977, p.43).

In this definition culture is more than a way of making meaning, it provides a social function that clarifies and edifies both behaviors and objects. Culture in this sense is woven deeply into the matrix of the social system, and cannot be extracted from it without damaging it in a fundamental way. Food in this sense is more than a set of social signifiers; it is also a set of practices, spaces, and outcomes all of which speak to the larger structural value system of the social system.

[O]ne cannot fully understand cultural practices unless ‘culture,’ in the restricted, normative sense of ordinary usage is brought back into ‘culture’ in the anthropological sense, and the elaborate taste for the most refined objects is reconnected with the elementary taste for the flavors of food (Bourdieu, 1984, p. 1).

Bourdieu calls us to see past the normative aspect of culture and move into a more nuanced understanding of the permeation of culture in all that we do. In this sense food cannot be reduced to a set of ingredients or procedures, rather, it must be gauged in how it is set within the activities of social life. Not only are we concerned with what is eaten, when it is eaten, and with whom, but also we must extend our vision to see how the production and allocation of food is structured within the social system. This examination asks us to look at food as a complete system and it opens our eyes to where value is placed on the resource of food as well as the meaning of food. If we reduce our examination of food to the kitchen or the dining room we miss very important places within the social system that are imbued with value and distribution of resources. These choices within a society represent more than a static snapshot of value, rather they express the conversations of changing values.

For the different forms of consumption in hierarchical societies are not simply transformations of a timeless cultural pattern that continues unaffected by a changing social system. They are in conflict with one another not only at the formal level but in action too. They may generate conflict and conflict may generate change (Goody, 1982, p. 35).

Changes in the food system represent larger shifts within society. As Brillat-Savarin has famously stated: show me what men eat and I will tell you who they are – we can understand something of social meaning, value, class, and change when we look at how food is produced, distributed, fabricated, consumed and disposed of as a complete system. If we are to move past understanding culture in Bourdieu’s “restrictive, normative sense” we will need to understand food practices not as bifurcated events, but as a systemic representation of the social structure which they serve to sustain. It is the goal of this paper to begin this refocusing of how we study the culture of food. I intend to outline the five phases of the food system in order to create the framework through which we can begin to see the deep connection between food and people. In my experience the most effective way to accomplish this is through the power of narrative. It is my hope that by telling a brief story about the food of a region (in this case the Acadiana region of Louisiana) I will be able to show how all parts of the food system weave together to form the container of cultural meaning and value. Ultimately, this is a story about sustained survival, and it holds within it the potential key to how we perceive a sustainable food system. Instead of creating new technologies that dismantle our cultural systems there is the potential to return to the traditions and heritage we have won over many centuries of learning how to live in our world, and on our world. It is to the bayou we must now depart.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

When the Water Comes


Since I was a little girl I've had a recurring dream that comes when things are tough in my life. Water comes up- usually in a deluge, although sometimes I wander into it, and most often, it's in the form of a wave with dreadful winds accompanying it. I've learned that sometimes in life the tide comes in and we are left treading water, waiting for things to get a bit more shallow.

Lately it seems I know a lot of people who are treading water and the tide does not seem to be turning. Divorces, lost jobs, lost mortgages, injuries, deaths... change- painful, un-wished-for change. Anyone who knows me knows that I like change. I change careers, places, jobs, and possessions rather often. The only thing constant about me is my willingness for change. However, even I have my limits, and some changes are more remitting than others.

I have a friend who recently wrote a scholarly paper on resilience. Now, I am not familiar with the methodology or the data set, but what his paper says has what those in the academy call "face validity"... it seems to make sense on an intuitive level. He claims that there are five elements of resilience:
  • The desire to improve the persistent needs of groups and individuals
  • The satisfaction of seeing change and improvement, one person at a time
  • Support networks of family and colleagues
  • Spiritual beliefs
  • Spiritual practices


I guess I agree with those, and certainly I've called on all of them in the past six months as I've watched loved ones go through all of the worst things people can in this life. But there is something else... some other element to resilience.

Last week Richard Campanella was speaking at Loyola in New Orleans and he quoted two definitions of resilience from the Oxford English Dictionary:
  1. The ability to return to a prior form.
  2. The ability to recover readily from adversity.

Of course, he was talking about New Orleans, and there is an obvious resilience in that story. He also indicated that the second definition was probably more appropriate in that case. But what is it that allows us to recover? How do we 'come back' when all odds are against us?

I know for myself it is like a switch gets hit. After all of the tears, the mis-spoken words of anger and rage, when I surrender and say: "I give"... something just cools down and the soft whisper comes from deep in my soul: "let's try this again, shall we?"

Which leads me to think that resilience is a natural part of the process of change and life. Like the roses in the image at the beginning of this post, things go away... die, either metaphorically or really. And as those petals and leaves fall to the ground they carry with them the memories of joy we generate through the five themes my friend outlined above... which is why change hurts so much. We embed ourselves in others when we love them, and when those things decompose and die it hurts because part of us goes with them.

Let's not forget though that those petals and leaves, those things that die, compost into the fertile stuff of the next season. Good compost comes from dead shit. It really is that simple, and that true. So, when you love, know that it is not forever, and for heaven's sake... don't stop loving. As soon as you stop loving people, and things, and jobs, and places you lose the fodder that will compost into your future garden.

And as for that water... remember, you need that for things to grow as well. It may be deep when it comes, but it leaves alluvial stuff behind that your garden needs to grow.

Friday, October 23, 2009

Comfort Me...



I went to the Rouse's Grocery store on Tchoupitoulas today to stock up on food for my trip to Wisconsin tomorrow. I got pretty much everything you would take to people you love and want to feed from the soul of Louisiana, because... let's face it, Louisiana cuisine is born out of healing the difficulties of life - or at least... surviving them.

Here's what I took to the register:
  • A bag of green onion Chee-Wees
  • A bag of Zapp's Sweet Potato Chips
  • Biegnet mix
  • Okra
  • Chef John Folse's crawfish etouffee
  • A shrimp pie
  • Pralines
  • Steen's Cane Syrup
  • Dried Shrimp
  • Olive salad
  • Italian cookies
  • Satsumas
  • Coffee
  • Luzzianne Iced Tea
  • Tamales in gravy
  • Stuart's pickle mix
And cheese, stuffed grapes leaves, crackers and wine (for the train).

As I was checking out the lady behind the counter commented on my selection, as folks often do in New Orleans when food is involved.

"Baby, it looks like you're having a party or getting out of town."

"I am leaving... my mom is having surgery." I replied.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Where are you headed?"

"Wisconsin."

"It's cold up there! Wait, you're missing some things here. Where's your sausage? "

To which the woman behind me added:

"Do you want to go get some sausage? I don't mind."

I assured them that I had sausage in the freezer at home as well as tasso for making gumb. They asked where I bought the meat, and when I told them Poche's in Breaux Bridge they both nodded approvingly and allowed me to pay.

"Good luck, baby. We'll see you when you get back."

Yes... yes you will.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

The Seduction of Words: A New Orleans Love Story - Part 2

Dear New Orleans,

You and I came to know each other ten years ago... and then I left.

What can I say? I was young, and I didn't realize that your secrets were something other places don't have. You know that you enticed me then, and I've never forgotten those times.

I'm sorry.

There have been a lot of places since then... I won't lie. I've really enjoyed those spots... it's true.

Kansas was better then I thought it could ever be. They have a healthy respect for pork and alcohol there- and the roots run deep. I endured a horribly boring relationship, but I also met my best friend there. I came to understand what "independence" means, and I began to understand what hot means... although you and I still need to come to terms with that. Ultimately, I had to leave though... because... well... it was Kansas.

Vermont was also wonderful- full of a new food movement and very thin people... two things I can't really resolve in the same thought. I know you understand that. It's wicked cold there... please forgive me, my vocal affectation is Vermontese. I find things "sweet." When you do something I need to correct I will have "no worries", and when you do the things I like (which is most of the time) I acknowledge my fawning love with "right on." And let's not forget... when I eat something I real like... I mean, REALLY like (which, again, is most of time) I will tell you "that does not suck." I really enjoyed Vermont, but it was so... monochromatic.

And there was Wisconsin... and probably some other spots that don't really resonate enough to tell you about.

But I've come back to you... beseeching. I understand a lot has changed for you. I know I wasn't here for The Thing... the really, really bad thing. I'm really sorry about that in a way I can't express to you in words. I know that on some level we can never understand each other, and I can't really understand what you've gone through while I was gone. I hope that won't keep us from meeting in some other ways though.

I really love your taste. You have amazing, incredible skills when it comes to food and people. Things are a bit rough sometimes, but you know I like that. You have this ability to maintain an incredible balance between anger and love. I really appreciate that you can accept our differences and still love me for who I am. Other places make judgements that you withhold... or are at least are willing to rescind when we move past that point and I figure things out. You let me be angry and full of lust at the exact same time... and you don't kick me to the curb for being a human being- you just love me more.

I think you also accept my wandering ways. I'm sorry that I need to go places, but leaving makes me understand why you are so different than other places, and why I love you so much. You keep on keeping on while I go on my little forays into the rest of the world- I think because you know I'll always be back.

And New Orleans... I think... I hope... that you will take me back. Please?

Baby, I love you.

Claire