Update on Conflict Kitchen

Two years ago (wow, really, that was two years ago?!?), I wrote about an intriguing project just getting started in Pittsburgh, called Conflict Kitchen. The premise was to focus on the food of a country with which America is in some kind of conflict, using the food to engage people in learning about these countries. The other day, I came across this Los Angeles Times article profiling the project, and its anticipated expansion from a stand serving street food to go, to a full-service restaurant in downtown Pittsburgh. Since the last time I read about them, they've done Persian, Afghan, and Venezuelan food, are planning for a Cuban iteration soon, and are also exploring a North Korean version. If you're in the Pittsburgh area, check them out!

Cultural Diplomacy and Turkish Coffee

This is what I call closing the last 3 feet of public diplomacy: handing out free Turkish coffee on the streets of DC, and inspiring lots of conversations about Turkey, Turkish culture, Turkish food, and Turkish coffee fortune telling in the process. 

 And I get to be a part of it! I would write more, but I'm headed to New York with the crew tomorrow as they spread the Turkish coffee love around the East Coast. So in the meantime, check out the Turkayfe website for more info on the project, and look out for lots of pictures and videos (courtesy of my newfangled DSLR) to come!

Scotch eggs and tea

Britain continues to be on the brain, though it's nice to know that we're often on their brains as well, as evidenced by this article which ran in the Independent in May:

Are we winning Americans over to traditional British fare?

It's interesting to see the UK concerned with creating a positive food image amongst Americans who lack the more celebrated food connoisseurship of Italians or Spaniards (we'll chalk up the absence of concern over French impressions of their food to the historical icyness between these two nations). Even I admit to taking a stab at the perceived drearyness of British cuisine.

The way in which patrons of the stall readily embraced British food after trying just one or two things makes me think that reforming one's national food image need not require a sustained, intensive, glossy campaign. Rather, some initial good eating experiences might be enough to overcome prejudices, freeing people to generate their own momentum in embracing food from that culture. Once people stop automatically equating British food with blech, they'll be more open to trying the variety of foods encompassed under the Union Jack. Like tea:

(NSFW on account of some hilarious potty-mouths)

The Royal Wedding menu

So, in case you've been living under a rock unawares, there was this little thing called the Royal Wedding that happened a few weeks ago.

For many, in the weeks building up to the big event the main question centered around the designer of the wedding dress. Brits seemed to nod in approval when it was finally revealed that Sarah Burton, protege of the late British designer Alexander McQueen, was the lucky anointed one. (By contrast, some criticized Michelle Obama for wearing a McQueen frock at the state dinner for Chinese president Hu Jintao, instead of opting for an American couturier).

For me, the big question was, What are they going to eat?

Of course, I'm always curious about what people eat. But I was especially interested in this menu after having researched Prince Charles's promotion of organic, sustainable, non-GMO farming and food production. Would the father of the groom and host of the exclusive evening reception use the occasion to reinforce his own call for sustainably-grown foods that preserve British rural communities and traditions?

Indeed he did. Reports of the evening reception's menu describe a 3-course meal with Welsh seafood to start, Castle of Mey lamb prepared three ways and accompanied by organic spring vegetables from Highgrove (site of Prince Charles's first forays into organic farming) as the featured entree, and mini sherry trifles, chocolate mousse, and honeycomb ice cream in a brandy snap basket to close.

By all accounts, the Royal Wedding seems to have constituted a huge win for Anglophilia both within the country and around the world. Some 2 billion people were estimated to have watched, and the newly minted Duke and Duchess of Cambridge recently announced an American extension of their state visit to Canada in July to capitalize on the royal fervor.

I heard from a few "what's the big deal?" party poopers in the lead-up to the nuptials, and I have to admit that even I was taken aback by pictures of the full-scale military rehearsal ahead of the actual event. All THIS for a wedding? But it seems like much of the pooh-poohing eventually fell to the wayside as the grandeur of British pageantry captivated all but the hardiest of cynics. As British Prime Minister David Cameron put it, "We're quite a reserved lot, the British, but when we go for it we really go for it." (Interesting how American nationalism often comes off as obnoxious at best, and arrogant and insensitive at worst, but when other countries do it, it's cool, eh?).

A wedding for any couple can be an opportunity to present a particular image about themselves to their guests. For the future King and Queen of England, it's an opportunity to reinforce their very British-ness, and hopefully in a way that turns people on to British culture. The oh-so-British touch that sealed the deal for me? It wasn't the dress designer, or the Scottish lamb entree, or the pomp and circumstance of a royal rite of passage. It was the McVities chocolate tea biscuit cake specially requested by Prince William to accompany the more traditional fruitcake wedding cake. A prince who commissions what amounts to "chocolate digestives"* in cake form for his wedding clearly has his culinary priorities in order in my book.

*If you are uninitiated into the wonders that are chocolate digestive biscuits, I promise they taste much better than they sound. If you don't believe me, Cost Plus World Markets often carry these biscuits; though they are generally served at room temperature, I've taken a liking to keeping them cold in the fridge.

Culinary Diplomacy in Jerusalem

From Discovering Secular Jerusalem, writer Daphne Merkin sees some culinary diplomacy potential in the Mahane Yehuda open-air market:

"The smells are enticing, the characters are picturesque, and you come away with a sense that between the eagerness of the multiethnic vendors to cut a deal and the eagerness of the multiethnic shoppers to go home with the freshest wedge of halvah at the best price possible, peace in the Middle East might be forthcoming in the not-too-distant future."

French Culinary Diplomacy Through Stamps and Airport Food

As an expat American who has lived in Paris for several years, pastry chef and author David Lebovitz blogs about France's coveted gastronomic offerings, his own mouth-watering dessert recipes, and the frustrating inanities of French bureaucracy. With an air of self-deprecation and a healthy sprinkling of wit and beautiful pictures, his blog long ago became part of my daily internet routine. So I'm not entirely surprised that his most recent entries both speak to a type of French culinary diplomacy... or perhaps a missed opportunity for such.

In French Food Stamps, he recounts his surprise discovery of beautiful snail mail stamps featuring artistic renderings of various French regional food specialties. The stamps are works of art in and of themselves, and the fact that they feature food only makes me wish I had some way of getting my own hands on these babies (you can see them here, although Lebovitz's blog has some more appealing close-ups).


Special edition American-cuisine food stamp?

Lebovitz notes, however, that La Poste seems to have missed an opportunity by making these stamps only available for domestic mail. Stamps and snail mail might not represent the cutting edge in information and communication technology, but what a beautiful way to, quite literally, project attractive images of a country through its cuisine to foreign publics.

As for foreign, and even domestic, publics travelling into, out of, and through Paris's Charles de Gaulle airport, Lebovitz poses the question, Why is the food so abysmal at Charles De Gaulle Airport?. In this capital of gastronomy, it seems only fitting that one's first and last impressions should be tempted and reinforced by food options at the airport. Just as Vegas has slot machines in McCarran Airport, as gateways to new places, airports can help reinforce a nation or city brand. Lebovitz lists the airport offerings in my hometown foodie city of San Francisco: "wood-fired oven pizza, teriyaki, traditional Italian pastries, sushi, dim sum, or a pretty decent burrito". (In my own travels, I always pick up a slice of cheesecake from the Just Desserts stand in the United terminal whenever I'm flying in to SFO). Yet the Paris airport offers very little by way of good food in its inner sanctums. Lebovitz expands on several suggestions for how to rectify this situation, which range from the obvious (cheese shop, wine bar, bread bakery), to the innovative (planting a garden in CDG's circular Terminal 1 with its criss-crossing plastic-enclosed escalator tubes).


Pre-flight snack?

It does seem rather a pity that Paris, birthplace of haute cuisine, lacks good airport food, both for practical purposes and culinary diplomacy objectives. Closer to home, it might be asking a bit much to get a Ben's Chili Bowl outlet in Dulles, but surely even we can do better than Wendy's and cold sandwiches?

America’s Food Image Needs to Get a Move On

(cross-posted from a class assignment to write an op-ed)

As Michelle Obama’s Let’s Move initiative to eliminate obesity within one generation celebrated its one-year anniversary last week, it has yet to shake its critics. Most recently, Rush Limbaugh decried the First Lady as a hypocrite on his radio show Tuesday for indulging in short ribs while in Vail, Colorado for the long weekend. Yet it’s no wonder some have cited the First Lady’s project as an example of “nanny state” interventions; should she finally solve the age-old question of how to get kids to eat their vegetables, parents the world over might pronounce her a modern-day Mary Poppins.

+ = ?

I am not a parent, however, and probably should not conjecture on the role of government in parent-child mealtime struggles. Rather, as an international communication student who looks at the way food represents and constructs messages about culture, I see in the First Lady’s campaign an as-yet unrecognized potential to reform international perceptions of American food, and of Americans themselves.

While critics of Michelle Obama’s initiative deride what they perceive as the elimination of freedom of choice, as a nation we have failed to see that our underinvestment in a healthy food system has larger international implications than our individual eating decisions. America has some of the most talented chefs in the world, some of the most bountiful produce belts, and a whole holiday dedicated to (let’s be honest) stuffing ourselves silly. Yet no American city made it into the top 5 of the Anholt-GFK Roper City Brand index cities for eating in 2009, based on the impressions of 10,000 people representing 20 countries. Ask a foreigner what American food is, and they’ll likely say something about pizza, hamburgers, French fries, etc. They might mention processed foods or fast food, or simply give the one-word answer, “McDonalds.” Some people (probably French) might scoff and say with a sneer, “There is no American cuisine.”

To take one example of how the Let’s Move initiative can change these perceptions, consider the national school lunch program. Founded in 1946, the program provided lunch every day to more than 31.3 million children in 2009. School lunches play an integral role in ensuring that, per Michelle Obama’s vision, government subsidized meals for kids do not contribute to rising rates of childhood obesity. Yet, if the recent Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution TV program is any indication, school lunch administrators currently fail at this task so completely that, as with most things, we apparently need to call in the real experts: the British. With all due respect to the Naked Chef and his countrymen, that foggy grey isle has hardly been known as a historical hotbed of haute or even healthy cuisine, what with its mushy peas, boiled beef, and beans on toast.

Michelle Obama’s Let’s Move initiative is an opportunity to reform not only what the world thinks about American food, but what they, by extension, think about Americans. What message do we send to the world when the most prosperous nation spends less than $1 per eligible child for ingredients for lunch? How little do we value American children that they get the cast-offs of large industrial food companies, not because these foods are nutritious, but because they can’t be sold elsewhere? And who is to take on the patriotic American torch when we are seeing the first generation of kids expected to live shorter lives than their parents due to diet-related disease?

Americans are often criticized for lacking a real culture, and thus for lacking a real cuisine. But a national school lunch program that reinforces the vision of a fit and healthy youth can be a start in building a national food identity that conveys more than just overindulgence, laziness, and convenience. Some might scoff at the idea of increasing America’s international prowess through reformed school lunch programs, but soft power matters. How the rest of the world sees us invest in our children’s health sends a message about who will be leading this country in the future. And though it is a bitter pill to swallow that we have thus far underinvested our energy and resources in properly nourishing our kids, now is the time to demonstrate that we are up to the task, and don’t mind saving that spoonful of sugar for special occasions.

Terroir chips?

(that's terroir, not Terra chips -- though those are pretty delicious too)

Foodies and agrarians generally use the concept of terroir to refer to the inherent, inextricable and intangible character of raising food in a specific geographical region. We often hear about it in terms of wine, the way the grapes of a particular region process the mineral characteristics of the soil in which it grows. People also talk about it in terms of food, how the cheese of a particular region gets its unique characteristics from the grass mixture eaten by the cows that produce the milk for said cheese. But, given that terroir generally involves growing something on the land itself, specific terroirs are not exactly mobile entities: you can't ship the soil off to some other place in order to replicate terroir.

Or maybe you can? This article about smoking techniques for food in Food & Wine's February issue has got me thinking that maybe terroir can become mobile. Specifically, this quote by chef Jason Alley:

"You can really taste the individual wood, like hickory or apple, without covering up the flavor of the thing you're smoking."

So, to the extent that the individual woods might carry the terroir of the region in which they were grown, perhaps exportable wood chips and smoking techniques provide a novel way to unshackle the concept of terroir from products solely raised on that land? Intriguing for a new way of thinking about globalized cuisine, or terrifying for implying that one could actually encapsulate and commodify the intangible characteristics of a region (though arguably, wine producers who invoke the concept of terroir already do this)?

Or maybe just a bunch of hot air...

Diplomacy on a plate

Tasting Table's newsletter for today (national edition) notes that chefs have recently been combining the classic French dish, duck confit, with American comfort foods.

A homey French staple cozies up to American classics

If only real diplomatic relations were so easy as combining one's national foods with others... then again, if Tyler Florence's duck confit and waffles dish at Rotisserie and Wine is as good as Tasting Table describes it, I'd probably be ready to sign any treaty you put in front of me.

Conflict Kitchen

Super, super intriguing: a group of Pittsburgh artists started a food project selling foods from places that the US has historically been at odds with.

Conflict Kitchen uses food to bridge divide

They're currently serving kubidehs from Iran, encased in a wrapper printed with information about Iran, as well as personal views about Iran from both Pittsburg and Iran. The plan is to focus on Iran for 4 months, and then move on to Afghanistan.

Clearly this is a type of culinary diplomacy playing out on a citizen level, or perhaps a citizen diplomacy playing out on a culinary level. What's also interesting to note is that this is coming from an art angle, with an art professor at Carnegie Mellon University co-founding the project, and the university paying the rent for the space.

Apparently the word is spreading, with people interested in how this idea might be franchised. I, too, am intrigued by how this idea might be expanded beyond an "art" project, or an academic venture, as well as the attendant questions that would accompany such an expansion. For instance, how to incorporate a sense of "cultural authenticity"? The current project drew upon the founders' personal connections in Iran, as well as the input of an Iranian-born professor at Carnegie Mellon. Are such personal connections "enough" to imbue a sense of authenticity? How might future attempts to capture "authenticity", lacking preexisting personal connections, shape iterations of the project?

Or do such questions muddle the process? Perhaps this model should be taken for what it is and what it might achieve in its limited realm, its potential to inspire others beyond its direct influence notwithstanding, rather than trying to scale it up or politicize it. Though it still nonetheless raises the question, will this actually have an impact on people's perceptions of, in this case, Iran?

Of course, others might also say, so long as the food is good, does it matter?

As American as Apple Pie

Around the time of my last post, my friend Amy came down from New York to visit, a trip that happened to coincide with my birthday. Instead of a birthday cake, however, she came with a Sour Cream Apple Walnut Pie from the Little Pie Company.



People. PEOPLE. I cannot fully express how much I love this pie. I cannot tell you, nor can pictures really do justice to just how amazingly delicious this pie is.* The first time I tasted the gloriousness that is this pie, all I could think was, "Holy hell, this pie is GOOD." Science (and the shop's website) tells me that the amalgamation of crisp apples, brown sugar, cinnamon, and maybe some nutmeg has something to do with all this, but all I ever think is, "Holy hell this pie is GOOD." I've had good apple pies before -- a now-retired apple pie from San Francisco bakery, Just Desserts is legendary in my family, and I used to be addicted to a cafeteria apple pie in high school that had a great French crumb topping -- but none of them have made me say, "Holy hell this pie is GOOD."



Lest you think this a matter of personal taste, Exhibit A: two additional friends also in town for the weekend, skeptical of my profused love for this pie, but willing to indulge me in the partaking of my birthday deliciousness. Sam requested a small slice, nonchalantly took a bite, and then said, "Wow... this is GOOD." Minutes later, both friends were going back for (larger) seconds.



Okay, I said I couldn't fully express how much I love this pie, but I'll try to be more specific beyond just telling you that it's GOOD. There's no mass of syrupy sweet pie goo drowning everything else. The thinly sliced apples (way preferable to big hunks IMHO) are still firm with a little bite, not mushy like some overripe apple that's been sitting on your counter for too long. I have no idea where the sour cream comes in, but if that's what makes this pie so amazing, then I'm not questioning it. I'm not one to generally like nuts in my baked goods either, but if the absence of walnuts changed this pie in any way, I would have none of it.



Which brings me back to my last post, and the "most unloved" foods. Note that neither apples nor pie appear on the list (nor sour cream nor walnuts for that matter). Clearly, then, if any country was looking for a specific food to be its cultural ambassador to the world this would be it. I think adopting this pie as THE pie as in, "As American as apple pie" could even do wonders for internal patriotism. As it is, I'm sometimes skeptical of being labeled, "American" and its attendant connotations, but if someone ever likened me to the Little Pie Company's Sour Cream Apple Walnut Pie, I'd say, "Heck yes, with an oven and a fork at the ready!"

*Disregard the brick-like quality of the pie in these pictures; unfortunately the heated version wasn't quite as photogenic. That said, make no mistake: pictures or no pictures, this pie is delicious hot or cold.

Food diplomacists beware: The 10 Most Unloved Foods

A friend forwarded this to me the other day... perhaps something to keep in mind for governments trying to woo foreigners with their food: avoid these!*

The 10 Most Unloved Foods

*I, of course, happen to love almost half of the items on the list, maybe because I root for the underdog...

BBQ Diplomacy?

I can't decide if I'm further intrigued about this as a case of food diplomacy, or if Reuters just used the catchy title to hook us into what is ultimately a story about one guy's friendship with North Korean diplomats.

Restaurateur wages BBQ diplomacy with N. Korea

I also can't decide if this guy presents an interesting model for citizen diplomacy, or if he just had grandiose visions of being some kind of Cold War-esque spy.

Finally, and I'm only being slightly facetious here, was it the BBQ? And if so, are we talking Texas-style, Carolina mustard, Memphis dry rub, KC Masterpiece, or perhaps some kind of nouveau fashioning (my dad once made some delicious ribs with a blueberry based glaze...)? Or could he just as effectively waged peace with, I don't know... pancakes or pizza or tacos?

Global foodies unite!

Look, another one!

Great Dining Deals in Paris

I'm actually feeling okay about just posting this link without saying much about it because it pretty much captures most of my thoughts on food and the culture of fine dining in itself. I have yet to read any of David Lebovitz's books, but I visit his blog almost every day for the beautiful pictures, witty self-deprecations, and glimpse into the (sweet) life of an American transplant in Paris.

Coincidentally, I also ran across this interview with "celebrity" chef Thomas Keller, in which he asserts that diners across the country (like NYC vs. Napa valley) don't really differ from one another, "because when you're dealing at that high-end level, it's the same type of client. It's the person that appreciates the quality."

Thomas Keller on Running a Culinary Empire
(you may have to register to read the whole interview)

Which all, I think, speaks to a culture of fine dining and haute cuisine specifically, as well as a culture of foodie-ism more generally, that transcends geographical locations and even national cultures. Keller's empire doesn't yet extend outside the United States, and I'd be intrigued to see if his theory about high-end diners might change once it did. But even though national cultures might value food differently, I think he's onto something. Perhaps we can start thinking of foodies around the world as their own diaspora (can you have a diaspora without an originating homeland?), united in the imagined nation-state of deliciousness.

But only if our (imagined) national dish can be the strawberry ice cream with peanut brittle and brownie from Thomas Keller's Ad Hoc, the cookbook for which I, also coincidentally, just received as an early birthday gift yesterday.



*Full disclosure: Thomas Keller has yet to pay me to eat at Ad Hoc, but should he do so one day, I would accept in a heartbeat.

Know Thyself

When the idea of keeping a blog to track my own explorations of the ways in which food and culture and diplomacy intersect each other (with some identity, branding, and critical analysis thrown in) first germinated in my mind, I knew the biggest challenge was going to be myself. Specifically the part of me that can barely write a one-paragraph e-mail without rewriting each sentence 5+ times, without stopping after a few words to reread the whole thing to make sure the tone and flow are what I want it to be, without typing, then deleting, then retyping the same word several times before finally deciding that that is indeed the word I want to use. You know the idea of "dashing off" an e-mail or a blog post or even a quick text message? Yeah, doesn't happen with me.*

Add to that my desire to live up to the great writing, analysis, and wit of some of my favorite blogs, as well as the intense intimidation of knowing that at least a few of my colleagues who, with the same amount (if not more) of work and commitments and social lives, make this whole blogging thing look incredibly easy are, indeed, reading my blog, and perhaps you can sympathize with the psychological barriers that prevent me from actually, well... blogging.

That said, I also hate to fall into the "starts a blog, posts somewhat regularly for a few weeks, and then falls off the face of the earth" camp. So, here is my compromise: in an attempt to at least keep this blog train going at some sort of speed, I'm going to resign myself to only posting links from time to time, without the full-blown analysis that I would love to accompany said links. I'm still hoping, of course, that some analysis and original thoughts and ruminations can accompany these things from time to time, but if I spread some of these things and leave it up to you to come to your own conclusions (which I'm sure will be brilliant with or without my accompanying commentary), at least I don't have to sacrifice entirely the notion of blogging -- which I still aspire to embody in the full sense of the term at some point in the future.

With that, I would be incredibly remiss not to at least repost this recent blog by Paul Rockower on South Korea's missed opportunity in harnessing the power of the Kogi Taco Truck to further its gastrodiplomacy aims. (And thanks for following me now, Paul!). It would seem that something about LA is particularly conducive to these types of culinary fusions of cultures. The LA Times recently did a piece on the multitude of cultural appropriations of "pizza" on offer in the city of Angels, and while these specimens hardly come close to meeting DOC requirements**, my tastebuds aren't about to quibble with "authenticity". (For Paul's more timely assessment of these offerings, see here).

*Actually, it does happen sometimes, but it often involves me having to talk aloud as I write. Somehow saying things aloud curbs the revisionist in me...

**Link leads to my fave pizza place in DC, which offers both DOC and and non-DOC pizzas, both of which are crazy delicious.

Fast food

We all know that fast food culture is steadily spreading throughout the world, often to the detriment of native food cultures. While I’m definitely not on the side of replacing or eliminating native food cultures, I’m not wholly against international fast food expansion per se. In much the same way that processed and ready-made foods can offer an accessible introduction into a new food culture, fast food originating in a foreign culture provides a way of expanding people’s food horizons and palates. It’s also interesting to see how different companies have adapted (or not) to the local cultural context and, on a nerdier level, consider the authenticity and terroir implications of such decisions. For instance, does glocalization on the fast food level constitute a type of fusion cuisine?

Here’s a quick look at some recent strategies to overcome cultural barriers in the fast food expansion industry:

Taco Bell recently opened its first store in India with an adapted menu that is beefless and incorporates more vegetarian options.

Novelty Proves a Hit for Taco Bell in India

Though McDonalds is also known for incorporating local flavors and food patterns into its menus, they found success in Australia by integrating the popular cafe culture into its physical location designs.

McDonald’s Down Under

By contrast, Subway has been expanding WITHOUT glocalizing its menu. After a period of letting individual stores have more control over its offerings, they decided it was more fruitful to maintain central control over the global brand of Subway.

How Subway Went Global