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-- Food Voice in the Kitchen: From Onion Soup Gratinée Sancohoby Renée Marton ('65), Chef Instructor, LaGuardia Community College, CUNYThis article was originally published in the Journal of the Association of Food and Society, in 2003. This publication is now called the Journal of Food and Culture. Whether you teach cooking or religion, the issues are the same. How does one maintain student motivation and interest in the subject? How can one personalize a topic enough to bring students “into it,” while not losing sight of, or time preparing for, the stated goals of the course? "How does one navigate through the diversity of world religions when students come to the classroom with a variety of attitudes, ranging from curiosity and existential thirst to suspicion and even hostility toward anything other than what they have been brought up to believe?" I teach “new Americans” an introductory course in foodservice and food safety, as part of a program for new immigrants learning to navigate the culinary landscape of Western commercial foodservice, which is derived from French nomenclature and technique. A majority of the students (all adults) come from Latin or Asian countries, and there is always a smattering of other ethnicities (Thai, Lebanese, Ukrainian, etc.) as well. My recent experience has been with Latin students from South and Central America, and it is with them that I have used Annie Hauck-Lawson’s food voice concept as a useful tool in the kitchen and classroom. “There are more food voices in this town than there are New Yorkers, food voices expressed in a multitude of ways influenced by ethnic, cultural and community affiliations, the economy, the environment, socioeconomics, health and nutrition concerns, food access, production, supply, preparation, sharing, and above all, personal identities.” The students’ native language is Spanish, and they come from many countries including Ecuador, Argentina, Chile, Bolivia and Guatemala, to name a few. It seems clear that there is “diversity in the classroom” here, although not in the usual academic meaning of the expression. A culturally relevant curriculum seems important for the best teaching environment, even given the premise that “mainstreaming” immigrants into professional American food culture is a form of culinary imperialism, as some students do feel (and with whom I often concur, despite the fact that I am paid to maintain and support this “imperialism”). Starting with memories of home, we delve into issues that don’t appear related-- at first. While teaching about leeks, a staple of French cuisine, we point out and discuss other members of the onion family. Students are asked to recall any food memory of interest where onions are used in a major way. In one instance, mention of a Peruvian stuffed onion dish reminded other students of a family favorite: chile relleños, a stuffed and fried chile pepper with which many people are familiar. As students were reminiscing, I was able to discuss and demonstrate a “French” way of stuffing, rolling and cooking large Spanish onions-- this was the “technical” part of the lesson. Verbalization of food memories, evocative sensory recall associated with family events, remembering agricultural/culinary traditions from one’s past: talking about the links between these three sensory related memories can lead to a higher level of interest in class, as well as create bonds between otherwise diverse students. Many future kitchen workers today are unaware (and perhaps uninterested) in where the food comes from that they spend their days unpacking, cleaning, chopping, cooking and serving. Yet as students, they have vivid and compelling stories of their own food histories, and one of my goals is to connect their present classroom “life” to their personal histories in such a way that both are enhanced. A food voice exercise I use in the kitchen/classroom involves asking students to reminisce (briefly) about food traditions and memories that relate to the main theme of the daily lesson. This sometimes results in a discussion of current culinary “dominance” in foodservice, and allows me to explain why the French model—the premise underlying the curriculum—is important. At other times, when time allows, a discussion ensues about personal versus political power, or the influence of an entrenched ethnic majority over a newer immigrant minority, and why knowledge about this distinction is important to the current and future lives of these students. However, lest we forget: the primary goal of the food voice exercise is to keep the students motivated and involved in class. Let’s use soup as a food voice exercise in the classroom, as represented by one Colombian student. Luz Marina Lopez states: "What makes sancocho my favorite recipe are the remembrances it brings of my country, my family reunions, and especially my father. My father used to cook plaintain soup once a week. It didn’t have to be a special date or special celebration. Sancocho was always in our weekly menu. Now that I am a mother and have my own family, I want my children to learn to prepare sancocho so we keep this soup as a tradition in our coming generations (sic)" Talking about sancocho leads to various ancillary and important subjects: etymology (what the word sancocho means and from what language it derives), agricultural practices (where plantains are grown, which leads to climate, geography and farming issues), seasonality (how and when do these vegetables grow), shipping and availability of ingredients, consumer usage within different Latin groups, etc. Western foodservice is based on the French model of culinary knowledge, terminology, skills, preparation and presentation. Students must learn certain French terms, even as they are still learning English as a second language. This can be very confusing. Using the food voice as a mnemonic aid creates an emotional link to the subject and reinforces retention. Following are a couple of examples of how memories, when evoked in the classroom context, can help retention. One is a food voice memory, and one is not, but both serve the same function. For example, a bain marie is used for tempering heat while custards bake. When I asked a student how to make flan, the Latin equivalent of the French custard crème caramel, I was given a description that included the words “agua caliente,” which I then linked to “baño de Maria”—a clumsy attempt to link my Spanish translation to the French term bain marie. Writing both terms on the board was critical, as seeing the words helps retention. In another example, when discussing a sauce/soup base called velouté, it is not enough to state that this “mother sauce” is made from roux and stock, two words that are also new to the students. Explaining that the word velouté means “velvety” in French brought out the fact that as children some students wore velvet dresses, and this link helped maintain retention of the name of the sauce, as well as its major texture. While not a direct food voice memory, the link between the idea of velvet and the goal of the lesson (learning about and making veloutė) does increase the odds of remembering the definition of the word velouté. Enjoying the learning process helps to keep motivation higher than it might otherwise be, and sets the tone for the actual work of the lesson. Once the issue has been personalized, even if not for every student, there is a higher level of enthusiasm which spreads throughout the class and the students stay more actively involved and focused. So what is it about sancocho that makes it acceptable to discuss it, but not to prepare it as part of that day’s soup lesson (unless it’s as an extra-curricular recipe)? One ingredient common to all sancocho recipes is plantain. Sometimes plantain is used unripe, sometimes ripe, and sometimes both. Cassava, yautia, and other Latin-derived vegetables are also used, as well as assorted meats, herbs and spices. Then again, possibly none of the above, according to one dictionary. Cultural diversity dictates that the question above should be taken seriously, especially when one considers that of the 12 million people who work in foodservice, 18% are of Latin descent. The American Culinary Federation now has a Latin chapter. The Latin influence is felt at all levels of the foodservice industry, from culinary school attendance to high ranking positions in and ownership of celebrity kitchens. When discussing native food habits and traditions (of course, students who speak the best English usually do most of the talking), students want to know why they can’t make their own recipes for the soup lesson, rather than the ones I assign. This brings us directly into the arena of the now dominant food voices of Western foodservice versus the new immigrant food voices struggling, and sometimes succeeding, to be heard. Many restaurants, corporate dining rooms, schools and others dining venues serve what is considered a classic in the French culinary repertoire: French onion soup gratinée. Many consumers know how this soup is made, and which ingredients go into it. For this, and many other, reasons, knowing how to make beef stock, and caramelized onions, is an essential part of the soup lesson, and not (at least not yet) the easiest way to peel unripe plantains, or where to find the freshest epazote. But, in a country where salsa is reputedly outselling ketchup, and tortilla soup is common, it is reasonable to assume that the food voices of the future will include sancocho, along with French onion soup gratinée (we old-fashioned chefs hope it won’t be eliminated completely). This wish to express oneself—in the kitchen and out—is seen in the huge impact Latin immigration has had and is continuing to have on the national foodservice scene. Epazote (a Central American herb) just might be replacing parsley as a soup garnish! The contrast between what the students know and think is important from their own cultures and what they are learning in foodservice class often leads to a discussion of why the French/Continental based model is dominant in Western foodservice and what this means in terms of “food power” in the marketplace, the history of restaurants and “cuisine,” the availability of formerly uncommon (up to now) products such as cassava and plantain, and why this is the case now. Needless to say, classroom time constraints allow us (teacher and students) to barely touch on the subject; but it is a way to get the students to think about the connection between foods they eat at home and foods they prepare at school in preparation for jobs in U.S. foodservice, as well as the connections between the two, within the framework of political power and culinary dominance. No attempt is made to place a cultural value on these comparisons. However, individuals working in the new American marketplace “increase their social capital by learning the value of networking, gaining familiarity with mainstream values, which in turn can improve their own economic status, and aid in their desired assimilation into the American culture.” To paraphrase Deutsch and Sealey-Ruiz “Culinary and hospitality teachers know that sharing food experiences—through discussing, cooking and eating—can bring us straight to the heart of a student. Biases, preferences, hatreds, memory, taste, and identity are tightly bound in our associations with food. Exploring these associations can bring us to new levels of multicultural communication and understanding, while teaching the life and career skill of food preparation. ” |
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