Food as information/object
On the subjective, and collective, nature of food
Food, in its production and consumption, is personal but also contextual: bound by the various social/cultural norms, economic considerations, personal preferences, and historical backdrops that flavor every single thing we eat (as Alexis Nikole Nelson says, "everything you eat has a story that you're the final chapter of.")
The same is true of the information we produce and consume: each magazine article, newsletter post, meme, etc. is both personal and contextual. Oftentimes we describe these contexts as categories, such as these classifications for data/information/knowledge/wisdom, or our personal and social contexts from the theory of Information Worlds.
Before returning to the world of food, I earned a PhD in Library & Information Science, and so I often think about how we view the intersection of food and various information objects when I write. It's hardly surprising, then, that 'food as information' has been on my mind a lot recently (I'm also going to be teaching a class on this, more about that later).
This month's paid newsletter was the first of an occasional series of posts on eating the color wheel, exploring the history and significance of color in various cuisines.
For 'yellow,' turmeric came first to mind, both as a vibrant coloring agent and because of its complex history steeped in colonialism and exoticism.
Julia Fine, who shared her turmeric findings at last year's Oxford Symposium (and who I cite in my next book as well), discussed its use within imperial England as a way to create false equivalencies between "exotic, foreign" produce (mangoes) and dyed versions made from local vegetables (turmeric-dyed melons).
I looked at other ways we use turmeric, as color and flavor, to signify the 'other', to create other mock foods like those dyed melons, or to bolster perceptions of a food's healthfulness (see for example the golden milk trend). In all cases, we have the perception and intentions of the producer of a particular food, and those of the consumer.
This is where I started thinking about food and information: in particular, how our views of these foods might fluctuate not only across time but across social contexts.
Viewed through this lens, who's perception of foodstuffs (or food information, like this newsletter) is correct?
Comparative literature professor Wolfgang Iser wrote about the "interaction between text and reader," basically this idea that reading is not only informative but interactive: It is far from a passive or static process.
Iser asks how people perceive and interpret information. Is my reading of a book the same as the author's? Does it matter if they're different? And which perspective is more "valid", the creator or the interpreter?
The field of Library & Information Science also deals with this concept a good bit, in an effort to study and understand information as well as the people who use it.
But in the world of food writing, we're barely scratching the surface (at least outside of academia).
Part of this may be that writing to spec for an outlet is often a didactic process: We're often there to tell readers what to do/think ("here are the ten best ways to reduce food waste!") versus asking them to participate in crafting meaning ("what personal and ecological benefits might food waste reduction offer? Why does it matter to you as an eater?")
This does seem to be changing though, with the increasing number of newsletters that ask us to stretch our minds in relation to food, and cultivate the authors' own voices. It's an exciting and sometimes frustrating time to read and write around all things food. But this trend is also an affirmation that there can be space at the table for more voices than we've allowed to sit there in the past. In fact, a foundational principle of librarianship is that every book has its reader. And when it comes to food writing, that's true, too.
What can we learn when we take a multi-disciplinary approach, applying the lessons of Information Science to the world of food?
There are a million directions we could go in exploring food in the context of Information Science, and I am eager to explore more of them, but here's a start as we begin to scratch the surface:
One of the theories I find most compelling is Information Worlds: a theory that scrutinizes the social aspects of information, recognizing that we exist within localized and broad social contexts (each with its own rules/expectations), and that these contexts often interact in various ways.
Without deep diving too much here, the theory is driven by five concepts: social norms, social type, information value, information behavior, and boundaries.
Examining our writing through these lenses helps us get a better sense of where we're coming from as a writer, but also what contexts we exist in as readers. Understanding what information people seek, avoid, have access to, and find acceptable or taboo also helps us understand how our writing and reading about food fits within various worlds.
If reading about food is interactive, as Iser says, then it is also contextual, as Jaeger and Burnett say.
Writing (or reading) about food, then, asks us to be actively curious: Bringing our own interpretations to the table, and considering the contexts we and the writers we follow bring to the table.
One thing I keep coming back to is that the meaning of information is fluid: The words on a page may physically remain the same, but we as individuals will often respond to or understand them differently, especially the farther removed we are from their original context.
For me, this is part of the power of being a creator and consumer of food writing: What I write may spark far different ideas, associations, and interpretations in each of my readers than it does in me.
As a reader, I may or may not feel a strong personal resonance with a piece of writing, but I almost certainly will take something away from it (for better or worse). And, as my knowledge and experience grows, so too does the lens through which I can read and interpret: What may be the most precious part of food writing, then, is that each reader will probably take away something new with each re-read.
Root news
The Hidden Cosmos Oracle + Recipe Deck is available to order on Root's website or on Etsy.
Using fermented food as inspiration, the Hidden Cosmos asks us to consider what lessons we can learn from the food we eat that can serve us beyond our kitchens. Â
The deck includes full color cards, and a booklet of recipes and card interpretations, all packed into a presentation-worthy box.
We're also doing an Instagram giveaway for ten decks until September 25th in collaboration with Rich Shih (co-author of Koji Alchemy).
Head over to this post for details and to enter.
In other news: My latest class is live: Mindful Eating, Mindful Making: Building a Creative and Sustainable Fermentation Practice at Home.
Hosted by the magical folks at The Fermentation School, this self-paced and online class helps people build mindfulness into their culinary practices in a fun and sustainable way.
To read
I love experimenting with natural dyes: Even when the experiments don't turn out, it's fun to learn more about the ways we have, and still do, interact with the resources around us. This piece about avocado dye is a good example.
This guide from UC Berkeley libraries has some good resources for all things food history/food studies.
Some creative ideas for what to do if you get your hands on fresh cacao pods.
This piece talks about food and information through the lens of consumer habits and preferences, as well as branding and packaging.
I'm fascinated with how we as writers and eaters explore bitterness, and our often complicated relationships with it. You Don't Win Friends with Soup is a good example of this complexity.
This podcast episode on historic preservation in a modern kitchen, and whose stories and homes are elevated versus whose are overlooked within these practices.
Maya Hey is one of my inspirations, and her latest research, Attunement and Multispecies Communication in Fermentation, is a good example of why.
Warm Home Energy sits at the intersection of food and art, and the systems we create around each.
And finally (and unrelated to each other), the creepiest word in Shakespeare's Macbeth, and the story of salt rising bread.
To make: Citrus Pickled turmeric
I wrote this recipe at the start of my PhD program: It seemed a good fit for a piece on turmeric and on information. This is only mildly acidic, and the pickling liquid is great in sauces and dressings.
1/2 lb Fresh turmeric, washed and peeled (I peel mine by scraping it with a spoon)
1 1/2 tbsp salt
Juice of 3 oranges
-Slice the turmeric into ~1/4 inch pieces and pack into a pint jar.
-Add the juice and salt, put the lid on tightly, and shake to combine.
-Allow it to sit in the fridge for at least 3 days before eating.