seen and heard

seen and heard: French & American Perspectives on Food & Nutrition

This week, I had the pleasure of attending a conference on “French and American Perspectives on Food and Nutrition” at the Cultural Services of the French Embassy.

With speakers from various sectors and cultural biases - ranging from researchers at the Institut Paul Bocuse to the much-lauded Marion Nestle - the conference covered everything from epigenetics to American terroir.

The presenters touched on subjects from food politics in the 1980s to the French preference for three-course meals, but a few key themes emerged from the wide array of research:

  •  The French, on the whole, are more open to the relationship between food and social responsibility.  The American media - despite the increased presence of scholars and journalists who portray these issues as political or systemic problems – continues to portray health as a personal, individual pursuit (especially when it comes to obesity).
  • The French openly flout some of the most common advice provided by nutrition professionals (for example, “don’t eat dinner late in the evening”).  They do, however, maintain a certain reverence for the pleasure of eating, spend more time preparing food, and involve the whole family in the food preparation process.  (Studies have shown that the amount of food one consumes is inversely correlated to the amount of time one spends preparing food.  Aka – the longer you take cooking, the more likely you are to appreciate and value your food – and the less likely you are to overeat).
  • Epigenetics is a field that is likely to take the forefront in the way we understand nutrition, as well as social and personal responsibility.  We are only beginning to realize the dramatic effect that our diet and environment can have on the expression of our genes (and the genes of our future offspring – not to mention the fact that French researchers have found that our food preferences start developing in utero).
  • There is a future for “terroir” in the United States.  In Vermont, initiatives to preserve or cultivate traditional methods for producing maple syrup and artisanal cheese are revealing that the American public has a vested interest in the value of food traditions.  And as the locavore movement continues to pick up speed, (Husk, an uber-local Southern restaurant was named Best New Restaurant in America, 2011 by Bon Appétit), this is the perfect time for local food communities to take pride in products specific to their region.

Yet even more fascinating than the multitude of topics presented by the speakers was the diverse perspectives of the conference attendees.  Their varied backgrounds - from an AirFrance employee passionate about pastry to a landscape designer curious about the social effects of gardens - spoke to the intimate and influential role food plays in the lives of each and every person.

After a few days’ reflection, I find myself lingering on one cultural distinction between the US and France. While I have no statistics to back up this claim, my personal experience and research in Paris has taught me that the French appreciation for the “art of eating” is matched (if not surpassed) by an insatiable desire to talk about food.  Everyone has an opinion, a story, a discovery to share – and the discussion about food reaches far beyond the confines of the table.  Moreover, meals are not one of many possible moments for socialization in France; they are the moment for community and social interaction – so much so that a threat to the quality of mealtime is considered a threat to French-ness itself.

On the American side, we are experiencing a veritable food revolution and the exponential growth in media buzz around food is absolutely astounding.  But does watching the Food Network or Top Chef religiously translate into spending more time in the kitchen or participating in meaningful conversations about food in our day-to-day lives?

Americans may be increasingly food-obsessed, but we are not yet adequately food-conscious.  There is nothing wrong with enjoying the fruits of the food media, but I fear that, unless we stop primarily taking our cues from the fantasy-land of the “food stars” and start basing our appreciation of food in our own experience (and our own kitchens), we will forever be missing the je ne sais quoi that distinguishes food as culture, rather than a commodity.

seen and heard : freddie stevenson

In New York City, one often fails to be a regular.  With so many bars, restaurants, clubs, events, etc. to choose from, we often hop from place to place, bereft of the acknowledging nod of a familiar bouncer or bartender (let alone a fellow regular).

But as one ages in NY-years, there is a certain appeal to deciding upon a few worthy establishments to frequent, safeholds in the swirl of the city’s never-ending orgy of frenzied innovation.

For those who fear the commitment of becoming a “regular”, Rockwood Music Hall is a delightful solution.  Within the confines of a single locale, it serves up an ever-changing menu of worthy musical acts (on the hour, every hour).

It was there that I found myself on Sunday eve, to see singer-songwriters Rosi Golan & Ari Hest - a couple of Rockwood regulars themselves.  Having just enjoyed their intimate evening set, I was preparing to leave, and that’s when the floodgates opened.  Concertgoers of all shapes, sizes and ages filled the room (on a Sunday night!) so - with the enthusiastic orders of a photographer “No, you have to stay.  Freddie will change your life” – our curiosity peaked, we decided to linger (at least for one song).

“Freddie” Stevenson did, in fact, change our lives that night (or, at least, our mood and perspective) – from the moment he and his band, the “Midnight Crisis”, hit that first smooth groove.

“I’m in some kind of boutique clothing store/Nothing makes sense to me no more/I’m headed for the door/Everything is more than I can afford”

From there, a waxing & waning 1 to 10 man band (from guitar, to baby-grand, sax, electric mandolin…) filled the smallish Rockwood stage, as we sat mesmerized in the haze of a beautiful, mystical time warp.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_qz5YbWuEI&feature=related

Yes, I said “time warp”.  We stayed glued to our seats for a good two hours, while Stevenson’s singer-songwriter/busker/camp rock wooed us.  Nothing short of entrancing, these are anachronistic - yet uncannily relevant - songs for the 20 or 30-something set that plays Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan and Cat Stevens on beat-up record players, seduced by the lyrics and the crackly sound.  Born in 1980 himself, Stevenson’s lyrics are marked with the profundity of a wise, well-worn sage :

May I pay for my sins in installments?/Sell the keys but save the ring/In the end everything comes to depend/On a few inessential things”

And if Stevenson’s lyrics are of an eerie eloquence – the foot-stomping groove of the Midnight Crisis is nothing but a good ol’ time.

For those of us with a day-job, Stevenson’s repeated midnight Sunday set at Rockwood is nothing short of depressing.  Luckily, he can be found busking in Central Park or performing with The Dirty Urchins at the 11th Street Bar or The Tippler.

You can catch The Dirty Urchins tomorrow (November 30th) at The Tippler, a bar worthy of regular-status itself.

Links: Buy a full 58-song album of Freddie Steveson’s Songs Buy Stevenson’s new album, The City is King on iTunes Interview Magazine’s interview with Freddie Stevenson

seen and heard: "pig: a restaurant"

Last night, I scampered over to the Upright Citizen's Brigade theatre in Chelsea to see Pig: A Restaurant.  This witty one-woman satire on food fetishism is a welcome, refreshing gut-buster for anyone involved in the wild world of foodie-ism. Pigs feet, Rue Dejean market, Paris 18e

"Pig" is a series of monologues (from chef to hostess, owner, supplier, food critic, and even the chef's former "I invented morels" mentor) from a pork-centric restaurant.  My personal favorites were those of model/actress/hostess Aurora and the eerily Insatiable food critic.  Intermixed with each character portrait (or should I say, "pork-trait") is a series of silly, spot-on media quips.  The intro alone is razor-sharp in its wit: a mock-up of the modern restaurant website, where the music's too loud, the landing page takes forever to load, and the menu is nowhere to be found.  (By the way, who ever decided that PDF menus - see inconvenient smartphone downloads - were a good idea?).

But don't get all worked-up, food-disinterested vultures.  Your circling stops here.  Because this self-deprecating, restaurant-referential sketch is nothing but a hysterical love letter to "ravenous" foodies of all kinds.  If there's a moral in sight, it's not "stop eating pork, fried in schmaltz, topped with cracklin", but rather "the fact that we can dream up and consume such things is ridiculous, privileged, and indulgent - so let's at least not take ourselves so seriously".

Click here to read the Gothamist review, featuring a picture of my favorite faux food critic.