Day: December 21, 2020

By Sakura Eguchi, Andrew Gordon, Vivian Jiang, and Leadora Kyin

During the development of our cookbook chapter, “Turning a New Leaf: An Exploration of Food and Recipes Through Migration and Transport,” what drove our conversation was the merging of cultures, particularly amongst Africa and Asia. This semester, we were challenged to question if any cultural representation can genuinely be “authentic.” While authenticity contends, our group collectively recognized that the strong attachments people feel to their culture is valid. Foods are an essential way to stay connected to one’s culture. Our group proposed the use of banana leaves as food wrapping to preserve the cultural significance that lies within the inner filling. However, does this “authenticity” remain if the fillings are changed to foreign ingredients? What about if these cultures are brought to new lands during immigration––are they fused or distinct? These are all questions that we chose to explore.

During the current global pandemic, home-cooked meals seem to have an elevated sense of purpose. The term “comfort food” has been given several definitions over time, but the 1997 Merriam-Webster dictionary’s description as “food prepared in a traditional style having a usually nostalgic or sentimental appeal” (“Comfort Foods”) has particular significance to our project. We wanted to explore how traditional meals are valued by people, especially immigrants in a new nation. In The Book of Salt, Binh moves from Vietnam to become a chef, eventually working for two American women in Paris, France. Feeling displaced and isolated, Binh often dwells on memories of his mother, who taught him how to cook. Intimate experiences with loved ones and caregivers often take place in the kitchen during food preparation and consumption. Culturally ethnic dishes also invoke feelings of homesickness (Locher et al. 2006). This relationship between “food” and “home” is what inspired the naming of our group, Homebodies. 

During our preparation, we questioned where oral histories are placed in foodways. This brought us to the realization that there are different methodologies in the way that people share recipes with each other. While we instinctively think of family recipes in a cookbook, this is not true for everyone. In fact, many families share their kitchen secrets by word of mouth. Preparing food in this manner requires more sensorial ques that cannot be encapsulated in written recipes; this method requires direct communication between teacher and learner (Claxton 2019).

Upon finding this research, we realized the implications that oral recipe sharing had with critical fabulation, the concept developed by Saiyida Hartman. In “Venus in Two Acts,” Hartman describes critical fabulation as “laboring to paint as full a picture of the lives of the captives as possible . . . to write a cultural history of the captive, and, at the same time, enacting the impossibility of representing the lives of the captives precisely through the process of narration” (Hartman 11). This term can alternatively be described as a way to tell the life stories of those who have no written records–it is a form of archiving. Our team realized that oral recipe sharing can also be viewed as archiving the lives of our ancestors. The traditional meals we prepare use ingredients and techniques that are representative of geography. Critical fabulation in the context of oral recipes helps us imagine what life might have been like for our ancestors who pioneered these dishes, while simultaneously bringing us closer to the relatives we have in this lifetime.

The archiving is an act of cementing the past, yet throughout our course, cementation rarely means completion. Preservation does not guarantee complete coverage or thorough incorporation. There are gaps in the discourse and missing voices. Thus, it is paramount to continue to interact and engage with the archive rather than let it collect dust. Engagement with the archive can go so far into critical fabulation, where the archive and subsequently, its disparities become a catalyst for dynamic reimagination, an exciting launchpad. Conversations with the archive in effect, generate possibilities for reinvention. If there are stories untold from the past, what is stopping us from reformulating new ones, not to replace but to recognize?

When it came down to crafting our recipe, we had to contemplate the fabricated binary of traditional versus modern, convention versus reconstruction. There is a tendency for narrowing one’s aperture to focus on what is “authentic.” It is easy to find oneself in a constant tug-of-war between doing a dish “justice.” Displacement relies on the often painful contemplation of the original “placement” once was. Like Binh from The Book Of Salt and Lowe from The Pagoda, the past and its settings can haunt a person regardless of their associations with these memories and places. How much can one “owe” to their origins without inhibiting their outward growth? Being in transit does not need to be exhaustive and instead, can prove to be inventive. With the nature of our recipe, we aimed to challenge the idea of looking in strictly one direction, and instead, embrace the temporal duality of acknowledging the past in a retrospective manner, and engaging with the imagined futures full of plurality. This took in the construction of our reimagined lamprais recipe. 

Our chosen recipe, lamprais, traditionally consists of ghee rice surrounded by a variety of specific side dishes, all wrapped and baked in banana leaves. When one opens a lamprais up, the warm, spicy, and hearty aroma enters the nose, enticing the tastebuds. In the center is the ghee rice, which is made using short-grain rice cooked in stock, onions, cloves, cardamom, cinnamon, and, of course, ghee, which is clarified butter. Along the sides of any lamprais are a meat curry (lamprais curry), blachan (shrimp paste), wambatu moju (eggplant pickle), and seeni sambol (onion chutney). In some variations of lamprais, one may find frikadelle (Danish flat meatballs), fried fish cutlets, eggplant, and ash plantain curry, or twice-cooked eggs alongside their rice and curry. The lamprais curry typically consists of three types of meat–beef, pork, and lamb–but sometimes is made of chicken to suit a wider audience. The flavor profile of lamprais is complex, as it has the rich ghee rice, spiciness from the curry, and sweet, sour, and salty from the accompaniments. To top it all off, or, rather, to wrap it all up, the banana leaves provide everything inside the parcel with an earthy aroma and flavor. To assemble the lamprais, one cup of rice is placed in the middle of a banana leaf along with a small amount of the curry, and a teaspoon of each of the accompaniments. Then, the banana leaf is folded over and held together by bamboo skewers or by aluminum foil. The lamprais is placed into the oven for about twenty minutes to release the aroma from the banana leaf and to allow all of the flavors to familiarize themselves with one another in the warmth from the oven.

Confronted with a recipe with a colonial past, we began our project with the lamprais in its original form. A Sri Lankan dish imbued with Dutch colonial influences cooked in a banana leaf, the lamprais already possessed threads that were on par with the conversations from our course. We pondered on how to reimagine a story that had already been shaped by a colonial narrative. Despite its colonial context, the original dish celebrates its own Southeast Asian components with ingredient ecologies that permeated past definitive borders. By maintaining the structural qualities of the original lamprais recipe, we wanted to pursue an outward-looking, forward-facing framework while tying our dish to the theme of the course, Afro-Asia, by exchanging the lamprais’ components for dishes of African and Asian origin.

 Specifically, Ghanian kelewele and Jamaican saltfish fritters were substituted for plantain curry and frikkadels (meatballs)/fish cutlets, respectively. Replacing the three-meat curry with Sri Lankan jackfruit curry also accommodates an even wider audience than the original version of lamprais curry. Jackfruit has been used as a meat substitute for centuries in Asia, as it has a neutral flavor and can be shredded or cut into small pieces that can easily replace chicken or pork in dishes. Since the lamprais curry consists of small pieces of meat, jackfruit makes a suitable substitution. Some lamprais has a plantain curry in addition to the meat curry, so we thought of adding kelewele, Ghanian spicy fried plantains, to be a part of the dish. Though kelewele is not curry, it has the fried element of the fish cutlets that can also be found alongside the ghee rice in lamprais. Our reimagined fish cutlets are Jamaican saltfish fritters. Fritters are an essential part of African cuisine, specifically street food cuisine, and we read and wrote about the significance of saltfish in The Pagoda as well as in Albert Chong’s photography. Our reimagination applies elements and uses foods from African cuisine while trying to keep the original lamprais taste and appearance. 

Retaining the use of the banana leaves in this dish not only has practical advantages for transit and movement, but also connects to the themes of migration and preservation of culture that were explored throughout the semester. The banana leaves’ function of physically encapsulating the lamprais’ ingredients can perhaps symbolize the Sinhalese people’s attempts to maintain and preserve their culture during the Dutch colonization of Sri Lanka. In contrast, the banana leaves can simultaneously demonstrate how European influences are conserved in Sri Lankan culture and cuisine, as a result of the Dutch East India Company’s involvement in the spice trade and subsequent European colonization of Sri Lanka (Balachander).

In connection to the texts we’ve read this semester, the theme of immigration and cultural preservation is exemplified in And China Has Hands. In his novel, H.T. Tsiang illuminates Chinese immigrants’ tribulations of assimilating in American society through the story of Wong Wan-Lee, a laundry business owner who was born in Canton, China and immigrated to the U.S. Throughout the novel, Wong-Wan Lee is consistently perceived as inferior and subjected to racism by the American characters. As a result, he seeks to maintain his connection to his homeland, China, in order to ease his feelings of isolation. For example, Wong Wan-Lee purchases Chinese sweets such as “almond cakes, rice cakes, peanut candy, Lee Chee nuts, preserved mixed fruits, golden limes and ginger syrup” when settling into his laundry business (Tsiang 46). Wong Wan-Lee’s specific selection of Chinese snacks serves as a representation of the collective immigration experience, in which immigrants consume foods from their cultures to not only alleviate their homesickness, but also to preserve their culture when moving to a foreign environment (Le). 

Our chapter, “Turning a New Leaf,” seeks to analyze the past to understand the present. We explored how food consumption and preparation helps us connect to ancestors and culture because engaging with our archives prevents them from being lost. We challenged authenticity in our reimagination of the Sri Lankan lamprais by incorporating components from the African and the Asian diasporas while remaining true to the origins of the dish. We acknowledge how food builds communities and brings solace to those who feel displaced, particularly those classified as immigrants to new lands. The themes we discussed in this project are vantage points that can be used to dive deeper into authenticity, archiving, and critical fabulation.

 

Works Cited

Balachander, V. (2018, June 01). History Baked in Banana Leaf. Retrieved from 

https://roadsandkingdoms.com/2014/history-baked-in-banana-leaf/

Claxton, Alana, “Cooking Lessons: Oral Recipe Sharing in the Southern Kitchen” (2019). Electronic Theses and Dissertations. Paper 3550. https://dc.etsu.edu/etd/3550

Hartman, Saidiya. Venus in Two Acts, vol. 26, no. 2, June 2008, pp. 1–14.

“The Importance of Food in Preserving Cultural Identity.” All About Cuisines, All About Cuisines., 13 Dec. 2013, www.allaboutcuisines.com/importance-food-preserving-cultural-identity.

Le, Chau. (2017, January 7). What Food Tells Us About Culture. Retrieved from 

https://freelymagazine.com/2017/01/07/what-food-tells-us-about-culture/

Locher, Julie L, et al. “Comfort Foods: An Exploratory Journey Into The Social and Emotional Significance of Food.” Food and Foodways, vol. 13, no. 4, 21 Aug. 2006, pp. 273–297., doi:https://doi-org.proxy.library.cornell.edu/10.1080/07409710500334509.

Solomon, Kisha. “Food as Culture – Why Cooking Is Important to Preserving Identity.” Medium, Medium, 11 Aug. 2016, medium.com/@kishasolomon/food-as-culture-why-cooking-is-important-to-preserving-identity-f9e7a74d97be.

Truong, Monique. The Book of Salt. Mariner Books, 2013. 

Tsiang, H.T. And China Has Hands. Kaya Press, 2016.

The Rice Rice Babies 

When we began the presentation, we immediately knew that we wanted to work with rice. Coming from various ethnic backgrounds, rice was a food that we all shared and was a commonality across the world in culture and dietary preferences. As we researched recipes, it became apparent that many cultures stick to certain flavors and ingredients for their traditional recipes, whether it be because those were native to their land or because they were what people knew. Our recipe combines ingredients from many parts of the world down to the garnishes; from Haitian pikliz to Korean muchim. And while it is rare, if not impossible, to find these combinations in an “actual” recipe, the mixture of flavors make sense. We want to push against that notion of “fusion confusion” as there are no distinct boundaries of food. At the start of the semester, we read DuBois’ To the Nations of the World where he stated, “Let no color or race be a feature of distinction between white and black men, regardless of worth or ability” (DuBois). This was a powerful sentiment that contrasted our personal opinions of his novel Dark Princess but we felt that it could be applied to our dish down to the details. The universality of pickling vegetables and fermented foods showed us that foods are not quite as different as we first believed and even with their slight variations, all food can essentially be stripped down to basic, universal ideas and ingredients. 

In Dark Princess, we found the quote, “‘Pan-Africa belongs logically with Pan-Asia'” (Du Bois 20). This sentence is representative of our recipe: we brought together flavors and ingredients from different parts of the world. Although they do not traditionally show up in many recipes, these ingredients make for a natural combination of flavor. Especially after researching their food genealogies, we found that many foods have similar histories that go unknown to most people. Referring back to our combination of pikliz and muchim, the independent diasporas of Afro-Asian people and their foods can only united as our once separate worlds are intertwined in this age of global interconnectedness.

Our oral history was incredibly informative as a genuine account of a food service worker at Cornell Dining. We realized that many people are unaware of the kindness and care that dining employees show us, not only just by completing their jobs every day, but in the seemingly small things they do for us, from making conversation when they see someone looking down to occasionally (and secretly) gifting free food when they notice that someone is in need. We saw how their labor was truly invisible at times; if they decided not to show up one day, Cornell would surely suffer. Like in The Book of Salt and in relation to Bình’s character, their work is invaluable but often overlooked because they are seen as perhaps “less than” or seen as an employee before they are seen as a person. 

Food is extremely important in the texts that we read this semester because it reflects upon culture and history, as well as the ideas of authenticity and belonging. While these concepts have become much more complex over time, food remains the intrinsic building block of our lives. A bite of a childhood snack can send us decades into the past and the taste of a foreign flavor can open new doors around the world. We cannot talk about history, gender, sexuality, or really any anthropological concept without also mentioning food and the essential role it plays formulating the world around us. 

In The Pagoda, we can look at identity and gender and how perception of it is fluctuating and spectral. It is hard to define gender and it is just as hard to define authenticity; over time, the manner dishes are made can change (ie. in the way of technique, etc) but despite the different name, ingredients, or kitchen equipment utilized, it is still fundamentally the same on the inside. Allowing two variants of the same idea to coexist transcends a constant struggle over which is more “real,” as they are equally valid despite unique conception. Whether Mr. Lowe identifies as male or female does not take away from the fact that at the end of the day, their hopes, desires, and personalities do not fluctuate based on how others perceive them. Another case of authenticity arises in And China Has Hands. In this book, Pearl believes that chop suey is one of the national dishes of China while Wan-Lee Wong dismisses the idea. While chop suey is not eaten in China, it still exists as an Chinese-American creation and its indirect connection to the former should not diminish its authenticity as a genuine dish that underwent a cultural adaptation. What is inauthentic to one person may be authentic to another and we cannot dismiss the many different experiences that vary throughout the world. Whether a dish is “derivative” is inconsequential because, as Lucas Sin said when he visited our class, all recipes are fusion in some sort of way. Over time and throughout history, increasing globalization meant that ingredients and cooking techniques were taken and introduced to new places all over the world. And we see this most in another text read this semester: Exit West.

Migration and globalization brought about the introduction of ingredients and recipes to different countries, continents, and cultures. The recipes we have prepared for this project were made possible by the historical exchange of goods and crops. The use of magical doors in Exit West shows the increasing ease with which these transactions become possible. In today’s day and age, one can easily obtain an exotic ingredient by ordering it online or finding it in an ethnic grocery store or restaurant. It is as easy as stepping through a portal to another country. The inevitable fusion that then occurs is not something to be ashamed of, nor does it make the food any less true to its origin. Everything has more layers than expected: one’s biological genealogy can be traced back to multiple countries, yet that does not diminish one’s valued existence. As we move through life, we add parts to ourselves, changing and evolving as we see fit. In this way we are like food travelling through time, constantly being modified to adapt and become the best version of ourselves. 

While thinking about the significance of course content in our development of the Instagram posts, especially revolving themes of authenticity and citation, we were met with backlash from a food blogger who had problems with our depiction of Nigerian Jollof as fried rice. She claimed that the pictures and recipe were hers and were not adequately cited and that claiming Nigerian Jollof is a fried rice is a misrepresentation of the cuisine. Ultimately, she wanted to have us reflect on the dish we put on the post. The grains of rice, methods of cooking, and picture did not reflect, in her mind, an authentic Nigerian Jollof either. We ended up taking down the post.

Personal Reflections

Reflection from Jae: I am grateful for my family’s ability to access healthy, organic foods. Home cooked meals from scratch were the norm in my household. It is peculiar to me to see so many pre-made foods whether it be boxed cake mixes, specific seasonings mixes, or even powdered milk or mashed potatoes. This course made me reflect on food origins, cooking, and access. All of these books we read had fresh food and the means to cook it which is not a universal reality. I realized that not everyone has gas to cook on a stove and might need to make everything in the microwave, so pre-prepared foods are useful in this case. Food insecurity is something that I have never had to experience, but I think by looking at food origins and how leftovers have been creatively repurposed has made me grateful for the healthy, comforting association I have with food. 

Reflection from Grace: In conjunction with what Jae said, working in Cornell Dining, I’ve seen a lot of food practices that aren’t ideal. For example, we are forced to throw out trays of sandwiches and ready-to-eat foods that were almost at their expiration date. It feels so wrong that Cornell, such a wealthy and privileged institution, will rather willingly partake in active food waste than allow dining units to give away food to people who really need it. Food is a basic necessity and while it has been easy for me personally to overlook that fact as we talk about food in this class, reading all these texts and blog posts have shown me that one of the most important takeaways from this course is that we cannot look at food without also looking at the lack of it. 

Reflection from Maddie: I write this reflection after being rejected from multiple food related jobs, I write this after reading articles and hearing chefs discouraged and tired, and I write this because I am selfish and can only be uncertain where my food dreams lie. This class allowed me to view my possible career path through a literary lens rather than one of strict professionalism (which I previously had). Food is a necessity to all living beings but it is so easy for people to proclaim that they “love it” when in fact, they love eating it. Few are passionate about the process, the history, the details that go behind putting that sandwich on your plate or that pad thai you just Doordashed. Both Grace and Jae make valid points in focusing on the amount of food waste individuals produce. It is perhaps because we take it for granted and see it as a single entity. When our oral history interviewee mentioned that they gave a sandwich to a student who couldn’t afford it, it struck me that within the Cornell community, there are those who view food as sustenance and do not have access to it. It is a luxury for us to view food on a surface level yet this class pushed us to consider all parts of food on a human and cultural level.

That being said, we received a piece of criticism from an individual regarding our Nigerian fried rice post. To be completely transparent, when we had made the post we originally put “Nigerian Fried Rice” and touched on how it was different from jollof. The information we could find on this dish was limited and I was personally unfamiliar with it but it seemed that other members had more experience with the dish and we decided to call it jollof. However, a food blogger came to us and expressed that we had been inaccurate in representing that dish and wanted us to take it down. While this is disheartening, our “error” was not due to carelessness but different interpretations of such a dish. This speaks to what we find traditional, what can we identify it as as the blogger even expressed that this was her own interpretation of Nigerian fried rice and that we were false. This brings up a question as to how we can interpret food. We are not saying that she is wrong or that we were wrong because members did take a firm stance based off of their own experience which led us to such a decision. However, out of respect for the blogger, we deleted our post.

It is unfortunate that we had to end our blogging journey on a sore note, I feel uneasy because we had worked towards applying the ideas of food representation through our work and resulted in a social media frenzy that Grace respectfully handled. This is a further reminder that the challenges we mention in this class extend far beyond an educational realm.

Reflection from Myles: ASRC 3310 challenged me to put some frequent but overlooked thoughts into word and action. So often, and especially at such a developed institution, we as consumers can take for granted the labor of our service workers who allow us the time and sanity to deal with our own problems. To imagine the impact of this ‘invisible labor’ on our service workers motivates us as students to be more mindful of their struggle as they help us with ours, and we feel obligated to support them as they do for us. Tying this into the idea of archives, the concept that certain labor is recorded and therefore considered meaningful arises and, knowing the silences that occur as a result of axes of oppression, we can make connections between the labor of unrepresented groups, working-class people, etc. and our responsibility to bring visibility and awareness to the plight of our service workers. Furthermore, food is a necessity which has required the invisible labor of underrepresented people for all of history, in addition to the embodying intriguing genealogies of food products which have reached all over the world via globalization. The fascinating intersection between these concepts and the dialogue through which we explored these topics provided an exciting, educational experience during our class time. 

 

Works Cited

Du Bois, W.E.B. Dark Princess. 1928. 

Du Bois, W.E.B. “(1900) W.E.B. Du Bois, ‘To the Nations of the World.’” BlackPast, BlackPast, 28 July 2020, www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/1900-w-e-b-du-bois-nations-world/.

Hamid, Mohsin. Exit West. Riverhead Books, 2017.

Powell, Patricia. The Pagoda. Mariner Books, 1998.

Truong, Monique. The Book of Salt. Houghton Mifflin Company, 2013.

Tsian, H.T. And China Has Hands. Kaya Press, 2016.