Debates, Exams, and Food for Change

Today is the first presidential debate. (We think--c'mon, McCain, commit already.) The campus has been turned upside down for weeks, but today we hope to see the fruits of our labor--or for those of us who have not truly labored, then the fruits of our annoyance. My street has been closed for a week, parking has been crazy (thankfully only at certain times of day) and students have been, well, somewhat distracted. I will say, though, that I've heard more conversations about undecided undergrads since McCain pulled his, "Hey, let's postpone the debate--because the American people will feel better about their finances if we don't talk to them!" Really, it seems as though that small amount of irritation at their Republican candidate has given Obama the small opening he needed to get them to listen to his message. Oh, please, I hope I'm right. 

As far as the actual debate, though, I have not been terribly excited--we don't get to see it, and I was afraid the campus would be overrun with journalists without given anything back to the students. But like any true southerners, our Mississippi debate planners knew what we needed--FOOD. I am so excited about lunch today. Vendors from all over the South will be setting up booths in the Grove to demonstrate what we are all about.

I'm both excited and frustrated by this. I'm excited for my tastebuds, for the chance to try all of these foods without a ton of traveling on a grad student budget. I'm excited to show off the South through one of its best assets--its cooking. But I'm academically frustrated. How is it that everyone, I mean everyone, knows the power of food to represent identity and place, but so many people, scholars and non-scholars, do not realize that it has a serious place in the academy. Sure, the Southern Foodways Alliance is here at UM working to preserve southern food traditions through oral histories and such, but what about food in literature, or food writing as literature? We are in an era of Cultural Studies, were this type of scholarship should be appreciated, but even some of the best scholars still see it as an offshoot of gender studies (there are SO many things wrong with this, it makes my brain hurt) or, as Katie puts it, "scholarship lite." Like food is so obvious that we shouldn't even bother studying it. But that's just the point! People for years thought gender studies was too obvious to study--obviously, men were superior, right? It was in their nature! Thank you feminism, but where's the movement to legitimate my field? Food Network's certainly not helping, dumbing down every show so that any megamarket shopper who buys packaged seasoning mixes and cookie dough can consider him or herself a chef. The network that used to challenge us with experienced and imaginative chefs now, like so many other American institutions, caters to the lowest common denominator. I'm not trying to belittle those women (not to be sexist, but most home cooks are women, let's face it) who want to make their family or themselves a home-cooked meal but have no time to make fresh bread or desserts. I completely understand, and I am thrilled that they can put in some time, get some help from the store, and appreciate the act of being in the kitchen. But please, Food Network, why does EVERY show cater to this person? Why is Giada one of the few who is still imaginative? Thank you for adding Jamie Oliver and Alex Guarnaschelli to the lineup--but why so early on weekend mornings? How any people are watching, versus the number who watch Sandra Lee in the afternoons and later weekend mornings? 

You, Food Network, are really doing nothing to help me out. People think that this is all there is to food. Yes, foodie-ism is almost becoming a movement in itself, but is there a way to not dumb it down but also not be elistist? To teach the real importance of food, the joy of food, without being holier-than thou and making people appreciate it less because they feel like they can't understand it? I often feel this way when teaching--how can I convey the complex, sophisticated, incredible ways you can use language without scaring and overwhelming my students and actually causing them to do the opposite of what I want--to get them to love language?

Well, I'll enjoy the food in the Grove today. I'll take some pictures and post them tomorrow. And I'll try to turn off the scholar in me, for a little while at least. But why can the academy not recognize that what seems the most obvious is often the most revolutionary?