About once a week in my house, the soapbox comes out and the eyes are rolled.
As an intern with a sustainable food-focused nonprofit, I have trouble not bringing my work home with me, and that usually means I lecture one or both of my parents on the latest sin committed by the industrial farming industry (often known as “Big Ag”), or the major gossip-of-the-month within the restaurant world.
One of the biggest stories to hit the airwaves in January was, of course, Paula Deen’s announcement that she has Type 2 Diabetes.
But it wasn’t the announcement itself that caused the shock and dismay that reverberated throughout the media. Especially with obesity rates as high as they are in this country, it doesn’t exactly come as a surprise that a chef whose very name seems to drip with bacon grease and butter is faced with the consequences of the cooking style she preaches. No, the real stunner was the fact that Deen has known for three years, and it appeared she only announced it after sealing a sweet multi-million dollar deal as a spokesperson for a prescription diabetes drug. That was a double-blow I’m not sure anyone could have foreseen.
I have a pretty strong opinion on the whole debacle. But when looking at it from a more objective view, I think the process actually brought out something that been simmering just beneath the skin of the entire food industry: politics.
Maybe it’s because the entire country is in the midst of a particularly dramatic (for lack of a better word) presidential race, but Frank Bruni of the New York Times was on to something when he pointed out that the instant backlash Ms. Deen received from some of her fellow celebrity chefs all too closely resembled the constant mud-slinging of the dozens of Republican debates we’ve been watching lately.
Deen stood on her podium, reminding her fans that she’s nothing but a cook and never claimed to be a model of health, while Anthony Bourdain – well-known for his previous affronts to Deen’s persona – jumped on a chance to add insults to illness, labeling her a danger to society.
I agree and disagree with both: I tend toward the belief that while, yes, everyone is responsible for his/her own wellbeing, a major public icon should feel some kind of accountability to the people who paid for the crown on her head – but that doesn’t mean I brand her as an embodiment of the plague, either.
About once a week in my house, the soapbox comes out and the eyes are rolled.
As an intern with a sustainable food-focused nonprofit, I have trouble not bringing my work home with me, and that usually means I lecture one or both of my parents on the latest sin committed by the industrial farming industry (often known as “Big Ag”), or the major gossip-of-the-month within the restaurant world.
One of the biggest stories to hit the airwaves in January was, of course, Paula Deen’s announcement that she has Type 2 Diabetes.
But it wasn’t the announcement itself that caused the shock and dismay that reverberated throughout the media. Especially with obesity rates as high as they are in this country, it doesn’t exactly come as a surprise that a chef whose very name seems to drip with bacon grease and butter is faced with the consequences of the cooking style she preaches. No, the real stunner was the fact that Deen has known for three years, and it appeared she only announced it after sealing a sweet multi-million dollar deal as a spokesperson for a prescription diabetes drug. That was a double-blow I’m not sure anyone could have foreseen.
I have a pretty strong opinion on the whole debacle. But when looking at it from a more objective view, I think the process actually brought out something that been simmering just beneath the skin of the entire food industry: politics.
Maybe it’s because the entire country is in the midst of a particularly dramatic (for lack of a better word) presidential race, but Frank Bruni of the New York Times was on to something when he pointed out that the instant backlash Ms. Deen received from some of her fellow celebrity chefs all too closely resembled the constant mud-slinging of the dozens of Republican debates we’ve been watching lately.
Deen stood on her podium, reminding her fans that she’s nothing but a cook and never claimed to be a model of health, while Anthony Bourdain – well-known for his previous affronts to Deen’s persona – jumped on a chance to add insults to illness, labeling her a danger to society.
I agree and disagree with both: I tend toward the belief that while, yes, everyone is responsible for his/her own wellbeing, a major public icon should feel some kind of accountability to the people who paid for the crown on her head – but that doesn’t mean I brand her as an embodiment of the plague, either.
Perhaps most interesting is the “culinary elitism,” as Bruni called it, that the situation brought into the spotlight. Deen might be over the top with her overindulgent creations, but that the rest of the industry is guilt-free of this is just not so. In the high-brow “foodie” world, bacon might as well be a religion in and of itself, and it’s a well-known fact that the main way to add flavor to your restaurant’s dishes is to simply add butter. I can see all too easily a scene of one such person guffawing as they flip past “Cooking With Paula,” and not 10 seconds later gushing over the excellent foie gras (literally, fat liver) you had last night at the newest New York City restaurant. It’s hypocritical, it’s ridiculous…and it’s downright political.
One could say that all of this shows how divisive and even damaging food can be – it not only highlighted the pettiness of the industry on both sides, but it also served as a harsh reminder of the obesity epidemic our country faces. I wouldn’t argue that.
Politics has much the same effect; sometimes it can make it feel like we, as citizens, are the children of a nasty divorce, and must choose one parent to love and one to hate. But politics can also serve as a unifying force: It provides a topic of conversation and thought-provoking discussion, and it frequently engenders a sense of gratitude and pride in one’s nationality.
Food is one of the greatest unifiers I know, another common ground with which to connect to others. I choose to see these events as a different reminder, one that recalls all those happy meals around the table with family, that gave me an excuse to meet new people as a freshman in college at the dining hall, that introduced me to a foreign culture I needed to understand in order to live in it for three and half months. And that, to me, is what food is above all: common ground.
Let the “kitchen politicians” bicker as long as they like – there’s plenty of room on the plate for fried chicken and caviar alike.
