A New Way of Seeing Food (an excerpt from my final reflection)

My relationship with food has certainly not had the positive focus that Kingsolver argues for. As I have already mentioned, it has often centered on what not to eat: fast food, soda, meat. When I first became a vegetarian, I bemoaned the loss of some of my favorite foods: chicken salad sandwiches, spaghetti with meat sauce, barbecue chicken. I dreaded the monotony I knew that my meals would entail from then on, seeing as I had just become a vegetarian who did not like vegetables. What I failed to realize – and what Kingsolver would have pointed out – was that, by cutting out industrial meat, I had created space for better food, for finding new true loves. Now, on the rare occasion that I eat meat, it tastes wonderful because I only get meat of the highest quality, that which is free range, organic, and local. In the space that meat left in my diet, I have discovered the joys of mushrooms, onions, zucchini, beans, peppers, and kale, all with rich flavors that I may never have otherwise known. I could never have remained a vegetarian if I had needed to force myself to give up meat every day. Instead, with Kingsolver’s approach, I have instead continually made the choice to eat something better, to treat myself to full tastes during meals and a lighter feeling afterward.

Most of the articles we have read this semester have had a strongly negative focus as well. While we definitely need to study and learn about food deserts, obesity, our growing acceptance of fast food, the spillover model, and forced eating episodes, it seems as though only focusing on those negative aspects of eating prevents us from moving forward. Here, we seem to have what Rozin refers to as a “pile” of negativity and a “hole” of positive representations of food. The two areas need to work together, with the negativity providing the problem and the positivity providing inspiration for an alternative. Kingsolver certainly presents her positivity in light of what she sees as negative about the surrounding food environment, and I believe that many psychologists and sociologists could do the same. But, if we are having problems of thinking of positive happenings in the United States’ food world, we could ameliorate this problem by dealing with one of our other issues: learning how to look to other nations for information on food and humanity.

While some of the articles we have read this semester have dealt with other nations (Spain, Denmark, India), the vast majority have focused on the United States. When we narrow our view to such a small sliver of the world, we collectively settle into a pattern of seeing U.S. culture as reality. We build a framework around ourselves that seems natural, failing to realize that we have constructed it. We think that our way is the way that life – and in this case food – makes sense. Even as we critique aspects of our food environment, we cannot escape the larger framework.

In my life, following the American way of thinking meant that replacing a bad diet of fast food, soda, meat, and Kraft macaroni entailed creating a diet with a lot of fiber and plenty of protein and vitamins to go along with it. This path seemed natural, healthy, good. But, as Pollan points out in his essay “Unhappy Meals,” my new diet did not include any actual food. Show me a plate of fiber, a bowl of protein, or a cup of vitamins. What does that look like? Would we recognize it as something edible? Should I feel comfortable with the fact that my diet goals could be met by eating only Fiber One bars, protein shakes, and sugary breakfast cereals? When put this way, my diet ideals reveal themselves as hugely problematic. I, like so many others, had been trapped by what Pollan calls nutritionism, the belief that good health comes from eating particular nutrients rather than building a diet made of real foods integrated into a healthy lifestyle. I had no idea that my thinking was so misguided because I had nothing, no other framework, to compare my reality to. I was stuck inside an American bubble. Since then, I think I have benefitted from learning about how people in other cultures choose their foods. I could follow the Indian model and, instead of doing nutrition calculations when I eat, could look at how that food will make me feel, how it will balance in my particular body. Or, perhaps, I could take a look at the French. Eat what I love, but not too much. Do it slowly. Really think about what it is that I love (is it really boxed macaroni?).