Foodies, those who ‘live to eat’ not ‘eat to live,’ those who watch cooking shows and read the food circular in the newspaper, those who shop at specialty markets and anticipate exploring new flavors, those who dine at expensive restaurants and can translate each item on a menu, people who track the etymology of gastronomy, those people, I among them, ascribe cultural significance to meals.
We set tables and sit at them. We contemplate the best serving dishes to enhance the experience, we partner foods with beverages to not only wet our palate but compliment the other tastes at the table. We make a variety of different dishes in one sitting and test new recipes often, we either spend hours in the kitchen or hundreds of dollars on food and unless something ends up in the garbage, we consider neither a waste.
Foodies often come from food families, whose gatherings not only include food, but center around them. Childhood memories have smells attached. Extended relatives have signature dish associations. We have our own family cookbooks comprised of recipe cards photocopied or transcribed onto copy paper and organized in three-ring binders. When a family member travels to a new place, everyone’s first question concerns the cuisine.
Foodies find certain trends popular in the general public mystifying, like most predominant fast food chain restaurants, frozen dinners, and craze diets. Likewise, non-foodies view some of our habits as obsessive, such as compulsive recipe saving, bypassing perfectly good ‘family’ restaurants in search of someplace ‘decent’ (the description of which remains undefined,) and the exorbitant investment on things like lobster or truffle oil or different colored salts! As a foodie from a food family, who found love with a non-foodie from a non-food family, which he would describe as ‘normal,’ I hope to help set the table, if you will, for an honest conversation about food and it’s place in our lives.
Don’t groan so loudly non-foodies! I know I tend to fixate on it, but I don’t expect everyone to. I personally agree that the food media indulges itself in delicacies far beyond the means of most families. Other food-centric organizations wield the cudgel a bit too reactively against the heads of those who refuse to goose step to their views, which preach the salvation from all illness or environmental degradation by their diets.
I consider myself a moderate foodie. Please do not prejudge me for a food-extremist such as:
- The Gourmand – price, health and well-being factor little into the white tablecloth world of the epicure. Gourmands inhabit the critical sphere, they examine artisans under the lens crafted by the masters of haute cuisine, which itself, was never meant for sustenance but to impress the other ultra-wealthy. * see essay ‘a feast for every table’
- The Alpha Dieter – examines the chemical composition of every edible item for premium nutritional performance. In their pursuit for optimum health, they have extricated and demonize food of which any international study has inconclusively suggested may cause deleterious effects, whether or not they have been substantiated and even if the Alpha Dieter possesses none of the risk factors with which controversial chemicals can wreak havoc.
- The Activist – has a narrow view of what humans can consume without harming the planet, regardless of the fact that other living things consume what they will without the least of consideration to us. The extremist factions tend to advocate devolving back to the hunter/gatherer culture of primitive societies (some activists do without the hunting culture too). * see essay ‘more for less’ for a better solution
Though every foodie feeds their passion differently, two tenets define my food philosophy:
- The fact that food maintains the health of the body
- Any necessity practiced multiple times a day should be sustainable and enjoyable.
The non-foodie, of course, assumes different incarnations as well. Non-foodies usually come from non-foodie families where (for a variety of reasons ranging from economy to availability) they were raised on a specific array of options which they have never found an incentive to stray from. Dennis came from such a family. These and other non-foodies don’t concern themselves much with food because, well, they prefer to concern themselves with other things, (and this foodie finds nothing wrong with that.) Some branches of alpha dieters restrict themselves into the realm of non-foodies, those who wish that science could create a pill containing all their essential nutrients so they could just cut out the tempting flavor elements altogether. I once read an article in a fitness magazine that advocated eating undesirable foods as a weight-loss strategy, yeah right.
At the start of our relationship, Dennis followed my lead on food. When I ordered calamari he ate calamari, and, unbeknownst to me, the man new naught of calamari and ate them for my benefit. He also munched down bleu cheese stuffed olives and eggplant parmesan without a peep. Tofu, likewise, was consumed with questions, but not contention.
Since Dennis likes to please others, I failed to recognize this act of love at first. Our foodie/non-foodie conflict only arose when we decided to combine our families, and we realized that each of us would have to compromise our food tastes in order to cohabitate.
Non-foodies can overlook how important food traditions factor into our lives, while foodies can tend to overemphasize it. A general outline of the divergent perspectives on this issue is provided below:
Who
Foodie: Everyone is expected to eat the same thing together
Non-foodie: Anyone can eat anything or nothing on their own.
What
Foodie: This depends on the foodie but undeniably quality is important to all.
Non-foodie: Anything recognizable, convenient and/or tasty.
When
Foodie: This bifurcates the foodie field, some graze all day long, others, like me, focus on meals, which we ascribe utmost importance to.
Non-foodie: Whenever hungry or when something tasty presents itself
Where
Foodie: At a table, preferably outfitted with the proper utensils, accompanying beverage, and condiments if necessary.
Non-foodie: Anywhere
How
Foodie: Slowly, with ceremony or strategy.
Non-foodie: Fast, sometimes with strategy, but most non-foodie food comes in easier to consume forms.
Why
Foodie: Because of hunger, experimentation, or indulgence
Non-foodie: Because of hunger, indulgence or routine
Conflict breeds where opinions and habits diverge. The arguments that arise in each relationship depends on the preferences of the players, and I cannot claim to encompass everything that each foodie/non-foodie pair may face, but only provide an example of my own case and offer advice of what compromises simmered down the stew for us:
Who
In my family we all ate whatever my mother prepared for dinner, whether or not we were hungry or particularly cared for that dish. We grumbled about it, but nobody posed an argument they knew they would lose. I followed this tradition regarding family meals.
Dennis’s mother also practiced that policy, but since he often didn’t like the food (which doesn’t surprise me because his mother is not known for her culinary prowess) he opted not to relive his torture with his daughter, and only gave her what she wanted to eat.
Conflict: When we started to cohabitate, his daughter was 9 and would only eat a narrow range of mostly processed foods, none of which were vegetables or particularly healthy for a growing child to sustain herself on. She refused to try the homemade versions of these same items or anything at all new or unfamiliar. Dennis argued that we should open a can for her and have a real meal for ourselves. My conscience couldn’t reconcile serving quality food to adults and junk to a developing body.
Resolution: Salt and sugar.
- I identified a few healthy foods she would tolerate as snacks and populated the house with them so even if she refused to fill herself at dinner she had healthy snacks.
- I compromised my creativity and started cooking more recognizable meals and Dennis started enforcing eating minimums at the table rather than letting her get away with refusing unfamiliar foods. Though he hates the argument that arises, it saves him from running to a drive-thru afterwards.
- We started placing salt and sugar on the table inviting her to add some to make the flavor more to her taste. No matter how much she added she would never match the sodium or sugar content of the processed foods she liked.
- We all had tantrums, and nobody liked the outbursts, so we learned to live with it, and eventually we stopped arguing.
What
I personally don’t care for meat and most fish though I do like shellfish and cephalopods. However, I carry no moral compunction against it, will always try anything at least once, and enjoy cooking meat dishes for others after years of living on my own. I consider dissecting whole chickens and fish rather fun, in fact. Nor do I have many vegetarian cookbooks. I have always found easy ways to adapt even meat-centric recipes to my tastes. I consider myself rather adaptive. Spicy, salty, sweet, sour, bitter, all’s welcome. I’ll even eat things with meat in them; however, the hunk of meat on a plate with a few mediocre sides strikes me as disingenuous and unappetizing.
Dennis grew up with a lazy susan selection of 5 all-American meal choices and has more or less not strayed from some variation of these ever since. All meat-centric of questionable nutritional value, (where potato, lettuce and tomato represent the primary vegetable elements,) he adheres to a narrow rulebook of what one should be allowed to do to food. He also clings to childhood prejudices like fond memories. He shies away from fish, even as an avid fisherman, because he once experienced a choking episode on a fish bone as a kid. Though a lover of raisins, he rejects them if combined with anything else, (cereal, deserts, salads) because he once found an ant in his raisin bran. Most irrational, I believe, is his aversion to peas, because he says they look like rabbit poop. Our conversation:
“But they’re not rabbit poop.”
“Yeah, but as a kid we had a rabbit and they look just like them but green.”
“But they’re not rabbit poop.”
“Your rabbit poop is mixed up with my rice.”
Conflict: This food suspicion pervades all. Both Dennis and his daughter will try new foods as long as they are honestly presented, all on their lonesome, but I frankly find that boring. Any unfamiliar combination raises eyebrows, as if some laws exist that forbid certain foods from cooking together. When I made what I considered a ‘normal’ meal of chicken baked with a peperonata (peppers, onions & tomatoes) sauce with rice pilaf, it met with complaints that I never make “just chicken” or “just rice.” Who wants to eat rice and chicken with no flavoring? They say they do but they lie. Eventually I deduced that food suspicion lay at the heart of this. If I make any combination dish, like lasagna for example, they lift each layer and poke around for questionable ingredients, requesting a complete list before the fork enters the mouth. Paradoxically, they show no such skepticism with processed foods. The can, packet or drive thru bag of grease passes muster without question. I buy Cliff bars all the time. When I purchased the Kind bar which proudly displays identifiable ingredients of nuts and fruit, each refused to eat it.
Resolution: Defiance and compliance
I have resorted to underhanded tactics. I make lots of broths. Purees work perfectly as well provided they display the expected hue, just cook carrots down in tomato sauce and puree away, add pureed yams to mac and cheese sauce and nobody is the wiser. At the same time, I will present some transitional items on the side to try. We have eventually graduated to incorporation on certain elements. Some remain frowned upon but I have learned to accentuate the positive.
When
As mentioned in the intro, foodies ascribe cultural significance to meals. Every special occasion deserves its due observance with ceremonial food. On birthdays we either dine at the restaurant of the celebrant’s choice, or I cook their favorite food. Anniversaries and Valentine’s day require candles, summer holidays call for grilled fare and salads, Easter will always be brunch, Thanksgiving needs a turkey, and we ring in and out the entire winter holiday season with a string of fatty and sugary fare and that sets the stage for the New Year’s guilt and resolution.
All holiday foods receive special treatment. No Tuesday dinner dishes sneak their way to the holiday table, only the best seasonal ingredients embellished to the apex of flavor, complete with garnishes and ceremoniously displayed on presentation platters.
Dennis’ family observes special occasions differently. He tells me his mother had cooked holiday meals in the past, but since she moved into a small condo, and since his brothers married and everyone started juggling conflicting family schedules, she conceived of an idea that all her sons found preferable. On holidays, whether it be Easter, Thanksgiving, birthdays and any other special occasion, she takes everyone out to breakfast. Mark my words, breakfast, not brunch. Past venues have included Denny’s, Shari’s, the Pancake House, and the Village Inn. Yes, when Dennis’ daughter thinks of Thanksgiving, she thinks of bacon and eggs, the same thing she eats every Saturday morning.
From their point of view, no arrangement could work better, and to understand their point of view, we need to shift out of my mindset, and into theirs. My family will always center significant occasions around ceremonious food, while Dennis’ family has always focused on ‘family’ (read: kids first.) Though adults in his family outnumber the little ones by 2 to 1, every event and outing concentrates on whatever will pleasure the kids. Like every family vacation revolves around an amusement park, every family meal either takes place at a restaurant that caters to kids or involves what people perceive as ‘kid-friendly’ food.
Conflict: We never had such a differentiation in our family, so when I attended my first Christmas at Dennis’ brother’s house I found the whole spectacle sacrilegious. His sister-in-law unceremoniously set out ham, box mac and cheese, mashed potatoes and carrot sticks with ranch dressing beside a stack of cookies on the kitchen island. The adults took paper plates and served themselves at random while the kids ripped into gifts in a frenzy of greed. Nobody sat at a table, and though everything was scaled to their tastes, I don’t remember seeing the kids eat anything but cookies.
Resolution: I offered to host holidays, and as the only person in the family who actually likes to cook, I won the bid without opposition. The first time I set a table complete with stemware Dennis got nervous that the kids would wreck everything, but when I explained the concept of the ‘kids table,’ I set his mind to rest. The kids ate in the rec room, the present frenzy took place in the rec room, everyone still had fun, but when it came to dinner, we all sat down to prime rib, bouillabaisse, rosemary-roasted fingerling potatoes and chicory salad in the dining room. Quiet, festive and happy. Of course we still trade occasions, but now I come equipped with wine, and no one has suffered for that addition. His mother still insists on taking everyone out to breakfast sometimes and I have come to understand the reasoning behind this practice as it grants us the rest of the day to do what we want, prep for dinner, go out, visit other family, prep for dinner.
Where
Most TV-watching foodies have seen some travelogue or another where a food/travel host/journalist (only the most coveted foodie job in existence) travels to lands both far and near, pulling into roadside stands and feasting on only the best chili dog, Banh Mi, or breakfast in the state or province. The rest of us lack the cadre of producers that canvas the countryside for these diamonds in the rough, and navigate our dining choices in foreign climes with carefully honed rules of thumb that are both hard to define and completely incomprehensible to our cohorts. With the exception of eating in my hometown or planned escapes where I have time to research my options, my on-the-hoof chow hound sniffs out acceptable restaurants mostly by instinct. However, I do keep certain criteria:
- I try to sample regional delicacies. I don’t like meat, but hey, I don’t live in Texas either, so while visiting, we’re steakhouse-bound!
- I usually avoid large chain restaurants but embrace the small chain restaurants. With only a few locations, chances are they haven’t compromised their quality yet and have captured a flavor or shtick that people in that area enjoy. Why not see what made them successful before some mediocre version of the same comes to my state?
- I aim for the tourist areas and then eat at the fringes. Tourist areas have the hotels and sites, but usually overpriced mediocre food. You can usually find more local color on the outskirts.
- For every diamond in the rough you find a million rocks. Many restaurants that eschew decor also skimp on quality and cleanliness. If the taco shack has a line out the door, eat there. If you sit waiting an hour for someone to acknowledge you, don’t force it. Some local joints prefer their whiskey without water and don’t cater to tourists for a number of reasons but most likely because neither you nor they would benefit from the experience.
- Some diamonds twinkle. Travel food snobbery has become a detective game for bragging rights where travelers only gush about food carts and hidden gems. When I was told (by a trusted source) that the Gelateria next to the Pantheon served the best gelato in Rome my travel food snobbery would not acknowledge it. Really, in that tourist trap? Can’t be! Yes, you can have a good meal at a flashy restaurant, tourist district or famous chain. Maybe they earned their fame and distinctive place. You never know. Use your instincts.
Conflict: Unfortunately, I have trouble communicating all this to Dennis, who, hungry after driving five hours, just wants to stop for lunch on our road trip. He cannot comprehend all the factors I weigh on this decision, explain as I try. He threatens me with Burger King; I plea to drive on reasoning that the next exit must offer a better selection than simply fast food. He tells me that other people consider Cracker Barrel a restaurant. I pity those people but shouldn’t. An hour later when nothing suitable presents itself Dennis starts to swerve from starvation and fatigue and I realize that had we stopped at Cracker Barrel, Dennis would have happily gobbled down some chicken fried steak and biscuits, paid, and resumed driving afresh. As it were, he is now irritable and driving erratically into the parking lot of the Subway he insists that we eat at.
Resolution: I stick to a time limit and start looking for options an hour before we might want to nosh. If nothing presents itself an hour after lunchtime I will always either opt for a (not too) greasy spoon or a Mexican restaurant (surprisingly this actually works on other continents too.) I also try to recognize when my preference is unreasonable. Certain stretches of interstate lack healthy eating options and that’s just the way it is. In that case, I listen to my companion and acquiesce to his preference. At least one of us will be happy. This pacifies the travel experience for all.
How
I was raised at a table and there I stay for a number of reasons:
- Eating can be messy. Eating anywhere other than above a platform to catch the chaff may result in stains on my clothes.
- In the presence of others, eating becomes a social event. Foodies may repeat this ad-nauseam but for good reason. We have busy lives where every minute of the day demands concentration on something internal, even while externally in the company of others. Most co-habitants tend to spend only brief moments interacting with their housemates, confined to instances where we meet around one thing and then ricochet off into our own world again. Dining gathers people around the same purpose, and often becomes a forum for conversation and connections.
- The table provides a place to arrange the tools (such as beverages and condiments) necessary to facilitate or embellish a meal.
- For families with children, the dinner table becomes a prime place to teach manners.
Dennis also spent his formative years eating family dinners at a table, but everyone’s schedules diverged by high school and from that point forward he no longer factored dining at home into his life. Dinner, for him often took place individually or on the fly, often in his car; if at home at all it might take place on a couch in front of a TV. He considered my dinners a throwback novelty, and was eager to introduce his daughter to the tradition. However, setting a third place at the table ended up validating the importance of this practice by exposing the effects of the alternative.
As mentioned above, when I came into the game his daughter was 9 and only accepted a few foods to pass her lips. Dennis had kept these cans and boxes in his cabinets, and served them to her when she wanted them, after which he would go continue doing what he was doing. With the exceptions of the holiday breakfasts and trips to a few other nosh spots, she rarely ate under the eyes of adults at all.
Conflict: Since Dennis had been raised with and then discarded the dinner table tradition, he failed to recognize its value until he sat down and faced his daughter at the dinner table. He was horrified to discover that she chewed with her mouth open, and ate everything with her hands. Because of her limited diet, she had never needed to use a knife to cut things for herself, and though she knew how to use a fork she was more accustomed to eating finger foods and more comfortable using her hands, which she wiped on her pants when dirty.
Note: this conflict does not concern me directly, but rather pits the two of us adults against a child who resisted using unwieldy utensils to spear and trim her food and claims that chewing with her mouth closed will asphyxiate her.
Resolution: Dennis learned that only face to face confrontation and repetitive correction can instill simple manners. Though he had previously schooled her how to use napkins and utensils, he had never enforced them with the repetition to make an impact. He also learned that actions taken at a table can highlight other bad personal habits, like hygiene and politeness. When his daughter would interrupt a conversation between Dennis and I taking place while lounging on the deck, we would stop and listen to what she had to say. When she interrupted us at the table, we both realized that she needed to learn to wait her turn. Also, ‘kid-friendly’ food has an expiration date. Dennis had always fed her these convenient meals without taking her advancing abilities into account. When he realized that his daughter was turning 10 without knowing how to use utensils properly and still eating everything with her hands like a toddler, he knew he needed to graduate her food choices which helped my mission to expose her to new grazing fields.
Why
Because we like it.
My cousin once dated a cyclist who had a t-shirt which read ‘bike to work. work to bike.’ His whole life revolved around his next ride. I considered this silly after all, a bicycle is only a mode of transportation, a vehicle to move you from one place to another, not a way of life.
Dennis, and others, would volley that comment back into my glass house. After all, food is only fuel for the body, not something that I should weigh every element of my day around. I confess the specter of breakfast rouses me out of bed in the morning. I spend hours contemplating my weekly meal plans, and when something upsets whatever meal agenda I had previously set, my emotional reaction may seem grossly overblown.
However, he would not argue aggressively against it. He enjoys my meals, appreciates how the table tradition has improved his daughter’s nutrition and manners, and he gloats over my formal affairs to his friends. We host lots of parties, because I like to cook for crowds and he likes to be social, and one day he may finally understand that I would truly rather slave away in the kitchen than mingle.
Resolution
Food obsession may irritate the ignorant and food negligence may enrage the passionate but just how every plate should display a range of protein, vitamins and fast fuel, so too will those of differing opinions combine to form a more balanced whole.
