In which Poppy swerves into an important truth
Poppy, in her other blog, nails a certain societal something. As we all know, the 1960s* were one of those times when the veil of society's temple was rent in twain. Up until then there was suprising little difference between the attitudes, behaviors and outlooks of all the groups A and groups B.
Poppy writes:
Ignoring the glories of what the written word can reach when processed by the likes of Poppy (of whom it may be safely said has been assiduously writing in prose for all her life and such diligence shows) the important bit is that for reasons which a nutritional sociologist would be required, Poppy is exactly right. One group of Americans decided to go that way on food, and another (and far larger) contingent decided to zoom headlong in the opposite direction, rushing in where angels fear to make dinner reservations.
It is indicative of the level to which society devolved that we have pancake mix. This product, in exchange for saving Americans the tedium of having to get out flour, sugar, baking powder and salt and--horror of horrors--measuring them, provides ingredients of unknown quality and assorted other additives which'd be the envy of an avid Scrabble devotee. The true convenience fetishist will buy frozen pancakes which in addition to the comestible alphabet soup of ingredients adds processes and ingredients that will allow such a product to survive life in the commercial freezer.
In my very own family, my very own sister (!) invited a large-ish group of us to dinner for a quiet birthday celebration (the actual party being on a Saturday). For dinner, the menu featured Shake 'n' Bake chicken, canned creamed corn and some kind of formerly boxed whipped potatoes. I can sort of cope if someone has this as a harried weeknight dinner. But for company? What alarmed me most is that most people were perfectly happy with this. In my family we have a phrase we utter only while in the presence of the Select Few: That's not food, that's groceries.
This way lies madness.
The destination paved with convenience is even furtheralong than where we are right now. Immediate gratification has trumped both sense and optimal gratification**. As a result we have inherited, not only the wind, but the physique of windbags. The mindset, more than the products which nurtured it, has given us a really, truly deranged and warped view of food and our relationship to it. So, being Americans, we tend to overreact. We have record rates of obesity and overweightedness (OK, so, like, that's a word now) and then when we are wallowing in despair someone says Fat's The Problem!
So fat goes. Normal people look at their intake and reasonably determine, that, ok, well, maybe we can put half the butter on this. Not so much oil there. No need to fry everything. Leaner protein. Then, of course, everything becomes low-fat and fat-free. Soon fat-free Twinkies and cookies litter the aisles. Somehow, the American shape becomes ever more spherical. The average American, long ago untethered from a sensible view of the edible, throws up his hands and wonders what went wrong with the Fat Free Nirvana.
Then someone else says Carbohydrates Are The Problem!
So carbohydrates go. Normal people look at their intake and reasonably determine, that, sure, a'ight, maybe we can put half the sugar on this. Not so much flour there. No need to sweeten everything. Less empty sugars. Then, of course, everything becomes low-carb and carb-free. Soon carb-free Twinkies and cookies litter the aisles. The American shape--suprise, surprise!--still becomes ever more spherical. The average American, being adrift from a sensible view of the edible (even worse than before), throws up his hands and wonders what went wrong with the Carb Free Nirvana.
Pretty soon, MARK MY WORDS, there will come a howl that Protein Is The Culprit.
The real villian, resting comfortably in our collective grassy knoll, is the crack-addictionlike dependence we have developed on convenience. On ease. On leisure. On not having to think or exert or making an effort. It shows up not only in what we put down our gullets***, but also on how we inform ourselves, interact with those with whom we disagree; it manifests itself corrosively in the films and TV shows we watch, what passes for the music to which we listen and the excuses for the books which we read, when we can be bothered to read.
Because, y'know, if it's worth having, it's worth instantly getting a shoddy, dubious facsimile .
-Joke
* The other was the 1910s. (I think we're due for something.)
** Few sentient humans will argue that a fresh made burger at home with halfway decent ingredients will taste leagues better than something rescued from under a heat lamp at the local Hamburger Hut--via the drive-thru, no less!--but most people can't be bothered, preferring to drive, to and from Hamburger Hut, for 20 minutes for something ranging from woeful to indifferent, than actually cooking for 10.
*** There are people who go shopping for food ONCE A MONTH. What the Hell can you eat that will survive a month?? Nothing fresh, that's for damned sure.
Poppy writes:
Now, for foodies, the 1960s are the crucially important decade. The 1960s were the decade in which Julia Child not only published Mastering the Art of French Cooking, but starred on television as "The French Chef." The sixties were also the decade where food faddism stopped being solely the territory of cranks like Gayelord Hauser and Adelle Davis and started to go a bit more mainstream. And most importantly, it was during the sixties that packaged convenience foods hoisted their flag over the American pantry, with the result that many Americans had no idea what fresh vegetables tasted like.
Ignoring the glories of what the written word can reach when processed by the likes of Poppy (of whom it may be safely said has been assiduously writing in prose for all her life and such diligence shows) the important bit is that for reasons which a nutritional sociologist would be required, Poppy is exactly right. One group of Americans decided to go that way on food, and another (and far larger) contingent decided to zoom headlong in the opposite direction, rushing in where angels fear to make dinner reservations.
It is indicative of the level to which society devolved that we have pancake mix. This product, in exchange for saving Americans the tedium of having to get out flour, sugar, baking powder and salt and--horror of horrors--measuring them, provides ingredients of unknown quality and assorted other additives which'd be the envy of an avid Scrabble devotee. The true convenience fetishist will buy frozen pancakes which in addition to the comestible alphabet soup of ingredients adds processes and ingredients that will allow such a product to survive life in the commercial freezer.
In my very own family, my very own sister (!) invited a large-ish group of us to dinner for a quiet birthday celebration (the actual party being on a Saturday). For dinner, the menu featured Shake 'n' Bake chicken, canned creamed corn and some kind of formerly boxed whipped potatoes. I can sort of cope if someone has this as a harried weeknight dinner. But for company? What alarmed me most is that most people were perfectly happy with this. In my family we have a phrase we utter only while in the presence of the Select Few: That's not food, that's groceries.
This way lies madness.
The destination paved with convenience is even furtheralong than where we are right now. Immediate gratification has trumped both sense and optimal gratification**. As a result we have inherited, not only the wind, but the physique of windbags. The mindset, more than the products which nurtured it, has given us a really, truly deranged and warped view of food and our relationship to it. So, being Americans, we tend to overreact. We have record rates of obesity and overweightedness (OK, so, like, that's a word now) and then when we are wallowing in despair someone says Fat's The Problem!
So fat goes. Normal people look at their intake and reasonably determine, that, ok, well, maybe we can put half the butter on this. Not so much oil there. No need to fry everything. Leaner protein. Then, of course, everything becomes low-fat and fat-free. Soon fat-free Twinkies and cookies litter the aisles. Somehow, the American shape becomes ever more spherical. The average American, long ago untethered from a sensible view of the edible, throws up his hands and wonders what went wrong with the Fat Free Nirvana.
Then someone else says Carbohydrates Are The Problem!
So carbohydrates go. Normal people look at their intake and reasonably determine, that, sure, a'ight, maybe we can put half the sugar on this. Not so much flour there. No need to sweeten everything. Less empty sugars. Then, of course, everything becomes low-carb and carb-free. Soon carb-free Twinkies and cookies litter the aisles. The American shape--suprise, surprise!--still becomes ever more spherical. The average American, being adrift from a sensible view of the edible (even worse than before), throws up his hands and wonders what went wrong with the Carb Free Nirvana.
Pretty soon, MARK MY WORDS, there will come a howl that Protein Is The Culprit.
The real villian, resting comfortably in our collective grassy knoll, is the crack-addictionlike dependence we have developed on convenience. On ease. On leisure. On not having to think or exert or making an effort. It shows up not only in what we put down our gullets***, but also on how we inform ourselves, interact with those with whom we disagree; it manifests itself corrosively in the films and TV shows we watch, what passes for the music to which we listen and the excuses for the books which we read, when we can be bothered to read.
Because, y'know, if it's worth having, it's worth instantly getting a shoddy, dubious facsimile .
-Joke
* The other was the 1910s. (I think we're due for something.)
** Few sentient humans will argue that a fresh made burger at home with halfway decent ingredients will taste leagues better than something rescued from under a heat lamp at the local Hamburger Hut--via the drive-thru, no less!--but most people can't be bothered, preferring to drive, to and from Hamburger Hut, for 20 minutes for something ranging from woeful to indifferent, than actually cooking for 10.
*** There are people who go shopping for food ONCE A MONTH. What the Hell can you eat that will survive a month?? Nothing fresh, that's for damned sure.
Comments
-Joke
And our Mother's Day ritual is sushi for me...and avocado rolls for Dan ... and california rolls for the boys.
It gets expensive but it's worth it. They *will* eat American cheese - so will I - - but only white, NOT yellow, and grilled on oatnut bread, with lots of sweet gherkins on the side.
No wonder we have a tough time getting them to eat anything at family dinners - they have never seen bologna or wonderbread in our house. They just don't recognize the stuff.