A Mouthful

I find so often that as much as I like to experience food, I have some difficulty clearly expressing what what the point is. Usually it seems that the point of me telling you about what I've eaten is a personal recommendation or just a memory I'd like to share, but that is not always concisely conveyed. It is common for my school papers to do well--but not without a scribble on the side that reads something along the lines of "Clarify what you mean here" or "Side-tracked".

To me, in food writing it seems simple that the point of me telling a story to begin with is to praise the glory of food. But in reading many works by many different authors, my naivete is revealed: Food writing isn't just about gushing about some delicious steak or critiquing a questionable meal, it is about the world of food as well; there is a point to it.

There is more to eating than just the meal, there is a universe out there dedicated to understanding food, ingredients, technique, history, it's all there. I've been reading Medium Raw by Anthony Bourdain, author I am particularly partial to, so his writing is clear as day to me. Aside from a few references that extend past my birthdate, I can hear him in my head dipping and weaving through his inflections as he tells me of his tales by text.

But to read a singular author is to understand a single perspective of the food industry. I think by magic (and I mean that literally because I do not recall requesting this book from the library, but somehow it arrived from another school to be checked out by me) I stumbled upon a book called Secret Ingredients, The New Yorker  Book of Food and Drink. It is a beautiful collection of writings on the subject of food from a fountain of angles. Many of the authors I do not know, but there are a few names here and there that suggest that everyone  who contributed to the book is a "somebody". Not to mention it's The New Yorker for goodness sake; you've got to have talent to be twice-published by them.

The very first chapter, "All You Can Hold for Five Bucks", by Joseph Mitchell, is truly delightful. He explores the social-food tradition of the "Beefsteak"; a gathering with roots in male bonding around beer and large slabs of red meat. But though Mitchell talks about the food, it is the history of the meal that entices me. I am mesmerized and perplexed that we do not have food celebrations of this gargantuan style anymore. A failing economy? Who cares! We could have world peace by the end of the week if we treated are UN counterparts to a [culturally appropriate] Beefsteak!

I haven't done the research to find out who Joseph Mitchell is yet, but I will, because thanks to him I have been made aware of the other wonderful aspects of the food world. He has pointed out the history and traditions that lie in the past; but they are not to be forgotten or under-appreciated because they make our food so much more rich than a T.V. dinner could ever explain, or that we might be able to understand from watching the travel channel.

It'll be hard to have a brain freeze ever again if people like Joseph Mitchell keep giving me things to talk about, and with my mouthful to say, you'll see the point I'm making.