Food for Peace-An Asian Heritage Festival, Toledo, Ohio May 22, 2021

Yesterday, I attended one of my first public events since covid-19 shut things down. It was the Asian Heritage Festival: A Showcase of Local Asian Women Owned Businesses. It was organized by two nonprofits, Women of Toledo and HerHub (www.womenoftoledo.org/www.419herhub.org). The first “advocates for diversity and inclusion with a focus on economic empowerment.” A worthy cause, and the festival advertised art, food, and fun. There were a number of art activities and educational displays as well as a Bollywood dance lesson.

       It was the food, of course, that drew me, and it definitely brought people together. After gathering some food to taste, I sat at one of the few spaces open at a table, starting talking with my tablemates about the food and made two new friends. The entrance fee included tickets for 2 meals and one “Asian mocktail.” I selected an Indian dinner from Bombay Kitchen, the restaurant that offered the site for the festival. They advertised street food, but the samples were standbys that usually go over well with Americans: chicken curry (“butter chicken”), rice, samosas (fried filled turnovers), mango lassi(yogurt drink with mango), spicy chickpeas, and gulab jamun, a delicious deep fried ball of flour, milk, and sugar soaked in rose-water syrup (which sometimes come with a warning that they can be detrimental to diets). It was more than enough food to sample, and it was delicious. 

   Shokudo Kitchen from Perrysburg, Ohio was there with choices of Korean beef bulgogi or Japanaese teriyaki, rice or noodles, and a side (Asian slaw, kale power blend, or edamame). I didn’t have enough tickets to try everything and had to pass on this one. It looked delicious, although adapted to American styles of serving and current trends in mixing flavors and ingredients from different cuisines.. Food has always been adapted to new circumstances and new tastes, so that authenticity is a false illusion. These fusion and “Asian inspired” dishes can be a good entryway into a new food culture for newcomers, but they also reflect a newer aesthetic that some describe as cosmopolitan.

   The next offering was Kay’s Kitchen, Sylvania, Ohio, offering Vietnamese food. The owner, Kay, is actually Hmong (one of the hilltribes that lived in the mountainous north part of Laos and Thailand). She married a man from Vietnam and learned to prepare food from that culture as well as from Laos. Certain Vietnamese dishes have become popular in the U.S., and she offered those for tasting: bahn mi (sandwich made on a long roll, legacy of French colonialism in the region), crispy spring roll, summer rolls, and two varieties of cold noodle salads (bun ga and twit nuong). I got to taste most of these because my tablemates shared tidbits with me.

    I know I said above that authenticity is an illusion, but the food evoked the memories of the four months that I lived in Saigon in 1974, attended university there. I loved the food there. I would stop with my friends at stalls by the side of the street and get the same types of noodle dishes and bahn mi. The only difference was the absence of the ubiquitous nuoc mam (a pungent salty fish sauce). The bahn mi, in particular, I loved. They consist of various meats with pickled carrot, turnip, and the leaves of fresh herbs (basil and cilantro), and piercingly hot chilies on mayonnaise inside a long bakery roll, the rolls being the legacy of French colonialism in the region. 

Kay was being helped by her daughters, who were all wearing Vietnamese ao dai, a close filling long tunic over flowing pants. That brought back memories also and somehow made the food taste even better!

    The final tasting was dessert from the Tiger Bakery in Toledo, one of my favorite sources for Middle Eastern food. They feature dishes from Syria, Jordan, Lebanon, Palestine, and Libya, reflecting the heritages of the cooks and owner. For this event they gave out two baklava, a pastry of ground nuts (I think in this case, walnuts) layered with thin sheets of phyllo dough and soaked in honey and syrup. The dish is not only delicious; it also shows the complexity of foods and cultural identity. Variations of baklava are found all over the Levant, all around the Mediterranean Sea, and into southern and southeast Europe. It’s one of those foods that a lot of cultures claim, but something this good is always going to transcend national boundaries.

    Most of the audience at the festival were likely unaware of the histories of the various dishes and cuisines being offered. They probably would have found them interesting, but the real intent of the event was successful. It brought people together to support local Asian businesses, and in doing so, people were clearly relishing the food, the chance to socialize, and the various activities being presented. It was a pleasurable outing for me, and I appreciate the 419 Culinary Nomads (World Affairs Council of NW Ohio: https://www.facebook.com/groups/506208900563098/) letting me know about the event. 

   More events of this type can help spread understanding of the diversity of and within cultures. Such understanding is particularly needed in these days of negative portrayals of Asians. 

 In honor of Cinco de Mayo tomorrow, I thought I'd post a link to a short documentary I produced on Mexican American foodways, particularly, tortilla making, in Northwest Ohio. It features my friendand colleague, Gloria Pizano, a wonderful cook as well as scholar and activist.(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kBfK7amGoC8&t=218s)

One of the points of the video is that we all have foods that hold a special place in our memories of home--or places, people, past--and these oftentimes are overlooked because they seem so ordinary. They might also seem easy to make and not particularly special. Tortillas are a good example. They are ubiquitous and inexpensive, oftentimes taken for granted. As Gloria demonstrates in the video, though, there's a lot more to them than meets the eye or tongue.

Another aspect of the tortillas are the various associations with the flour used to make them. Corn flour (ground from corn treated with lye which releases the vitamins and softens the hull) is the traditional kind. Corn is native to Mexico and was domesticated there around 9,000 years ago! Wheat was brought in with the European colonists at the turn of the 1500s. It grew well in northern Mexico (which spread up into what later became Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and California) and became established there. When migrants moved north from that region, they took their wheat flour tortilla traditions with them. Some Mexicans, though, consider only the corn tortillas to be authentic.

The holiday celebrates the victory over the French in 1862. It's not considered a big deal in Mexico, but it has become the public celebration of Mexican culture in the U.S.--I think, partly, because it fits so well into the calendar at a time when Spring really does seem to have arrived. In any case, it's a good excuse to try making tortillas (as shown in the video) and ordering take out from some of the many excellent Mexican American restaurants in this region. Most of these emphasize "Tex-Mex" dishes since much of the local population migrated up from Texas (and had lived in that area before it became the U.S.) starting in the 1930s to work in the sugar beet and tomato industries. For more information on this food culture, see the handouts on the website of the Center for Food and Culture (https://foodandculture.org/.../activity-guides-community.../).

Nourishing Connections Through Food in the Age of the Coronavirus—An Unfinished Blog Post from March 2020

 March 29, 2020//April 22, 2021

Nourishing Connections Through Food in the Age of the Coronavirus—An Unfinished Blog Post

April 22, 2021--I discovered this unfinished post the other day. It’s from the end of the first month of the lockdown due to the Covid-19 pandemic. I remember why I didn’t finish it. We were still getting used to the reality of the pandemic. It seemed like something from a science fiction film, and to suddenly find ourselves living through it seemed surreal. In the face of that, writing a blog seemed pretty trivial and useless. Who knew who would be around to read it.

Now, almost a year later, many of us are vaccinated, and life is actually returning to some sort of normalcy. A lot has changed, though, for a lot of us. The university used covid as an excuse to cut numerous positions, including mine, and even though it now has plenty of funds, it doesn’t see a need to rehire people. I also haven’t seen my kids in over a year and a half. Other than that, my life during the pandemic was actually very good.

The thoughts I had over a year ago, though, are still relevant, perhaps even more so. We’ve had a chance to rethink the way we live and to look into how “normal life” perhaps shouldn’t be considered normal, at least, when it comes to food. Many of us were disconnected from the producers of what we consume, were blissfully unaware of the inequalities in the food system and assumed we would have access to most anything we wanted to eat and whenever. We saw during the pandemic how fragile those systems are, though. We also know now how fragile life itself is, and how there are no guarantees. That has made some of us turn both inward to reflect on the purposes and meanings of our own lives and outward to find ways that we can contribute to others’ quality of life. Food continues to be at the center of much this activity and actually now seems to be recognized for its potential. It turns out that it is the “small things” after all that connect us all.

 

March 29, 2020-

-I haven’t written anything for this blog in several months—last fall was incredibly busy, and I spent the first part of 2020 catching up on overdue projects. Then, news of the coronavirus (covid-19) started creeping in from China. Like many Americans, I figured this was something that would be contained and wouldn’t be a serious problem here, but I have friends and relatives living in the countries initially affected, so I followed the news closely. I curtailed my own travels and socializing before the shelter at home orders came in—and stocked up on necessary items. (Yes, I even have extra toilet paper that I’ve been sharing with friends.) 

      Now that people are finally taking Covid-19 seriously, I, like many, am noticing the role that food is playing in all of this, especially, the need to get fresh supplies. I am also noticing the ways in which food is being used to nourish connections. Many people are doing this intentionally—offering to shop for others, posting notices of restaurants still serving through delivery or take-out, posting suggestions for recipes, and offering online cooking instructions. New social media technologies are even making it possible to have virtual meals together, as well as “happy hours” with cocktails and wine (sometimes more accurately known as “wine and whines”).

     As many are pointing out, though, many such intentional displays of connecting through food are for the privileged--those of us who have well-stocked larders, easy access to clean water and cleaning supplies, time to devote to thinking about food, and enough emotional energy to think about food as an artistic and social outlet. What happens to the people who have never had to cook for themselves, to the ones who do not have basic supplies or equipment (like the large freezers in many American homes), to parents trying to deal with traumatized children, to the individuals too traumatized themselves to string together coherent steps in a recipe? 

    This might be a time to draw back and notice the “big meanings in small things.” As a folklorist, my scholarly training has always focused on the everyday, the mundane and oftentimes overlooked parts of life. In food, that means noticing—and appreciating--the the dishes and recipes that we tend not to think about too much, and that we don’t think of as special—until we don’t have them. Fresh greens for a salad? Flour or yeast to make bread? Is it risky going to the store? We also don’t have to make gourmet meals with exotic ingredients for our food to be meaningful. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich can bring back memories of childhood and be comforting. That can make it more meaningful to us than the most expensive fine dining experience.

[Photos--the one on top is my grandmother and my daughter sharing a snack. The paper of the toilet paper cake comes from a post on the Internet and the name didn't get attached to the photo. If anyone recognizes it, I would love to know who made this cake--and give them credit. I love the humor of it.)

 

Garlic Mustard—Weeds, Pesto, and Memories (For Earth Day 2021)

 Garlic Mustard—Weeds, Pesto, and Memories (For Earth Day 2021)

It’s garlic mustard season! Although it does signal the arrival of spring, this plant takes over woods, fields and yards, choking out other plants. Because of this, it is called a weed. 

On a personal level, garlic mustard reminds me of my son. He spent long days pulling it out and disposing of it in the various parks and meadows where he worked, but he also didn’t like calling it a weed. He found it problematic that humans divided the world into things that were useful or pleasurable to them and therefore “good,” while everything else was dangerous or bad. He saw that categorization applied to humans, too. Those who toed the line and did what was expected to keep the capitalistic, consumerist-oriented system going were the desirable ones, while humans--like himself—who challenged the system, cared about the wellbeing of the planet more than money were deemed bad, or, at least, odd. 

 

I think he might have related to garlic mustard on an emotional level. Rather than simply dismissing it as a weed, he encouraged people to appreciate it as a food but also to keep eradicating it. To that end, he tried different ways of eating it and oftentimes made pesto from it. His recipe is below. He also talks about garlic mustard and other wild plants in the short documentary I produced on “Foods From Nature” for the Center for Food and Culture. You can view it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dJhU0L6t4No.

 

The Garlic Mustard plant is native to Europe, western and central Asia and northwest Africa, where it was valued for its medicinal and edible properties. It was used there as a flavoring for food, and the young leaves were eaten as a vegetable. It apparently also functioned as a diuretic and disinfectant, and was used to treat wounds. 

 

So, originally, it was not considered a weed. It was likely introduced to the U.S in the early 1800s by European settlers and was first recorded in Long Island in 1868. (https://www.invasive.org/alien/pubs/midatlantic/alpe.htm). It turned out, though, that there are no natural controls for it in North America, and it has spread across the continent, taking over in wooded areas and yards. It is also toxic to many native herbivores, butterflies, and moths. 

Rather than exterminate the plant by chemical means, which would then cause another set of problems, scientists (like my son) suggest physically removing and discarding the plant, but also finding uses for it. One of those can be food. To that end, garlic mustard pesto is a small step in making a dent in the spread of this plant. Perhaps more importantly, it represents a way to collaborate with nature, recognizing that human intervention has created damage and that our solutions resolving that damage can sometimes cause even more. 

Ian Santino's Recipe for Garlic Mustard Pesto:

3 cups garlic mustard leaves washed and packed (young leaves are the best)

2 garlic cloves (optional

1 cup olive oil

1 cup grated Parmesan cheese or nutritional yeast

1 – 1 ½ cups walnuts (pine nuts can be used, but are expensive)

¼ teaspoon salt 

1/8 teaspoon pepper (optional)

 

1.Pack three cups garlic mustard leaves washed and dried. (For best flavor, use young garlic mustard leaves before the plant flowers. )

2.Combine remaining ingredients in a food processor.  

3.Blend until pesto is smooth.  

4.Slowly add garlic mustard leaves to the pesto blend until all leaves are added and the pesto is smooth.  

Use as a sauce or spread on pasta, bread, and other dishes or use as a dip for veggies and chips.