3 minute read
There’s no conversation starter like food:
The Unifying Qualities of Food Through Culture and Memory
Whether or not you’re a ‘foodie’, you’ve probably at least once met up with friends or family over a meal. But why? Biologically, we’re inclined to consume things as humans; we all experience hunger and the need to eat. As social animals, we’re inclined to build relationships with other people. So why did we start building them through food? Why did that need become more of a want? Why is it that we attach sentiment to our food and memory to our drinks? Both questions and answers are incredibly philosophical. Somewhere along the timeline, we went from foraging fruit and hunting meat to the fast-paced life of mixing said grub with sugar, salt, and spices. Either from our own homes or in the ambiance of a café or restaurant, we bond over the commercialisation of this need, that has now become a want. Because the pleasure of food is not just its taste and its satisfaction, but the occasion, the time, or the place it is allocated to. Essentially, food holds its own culture and memory, along with the power to unite humans worldwide.
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Culture
There are so many social aspects of food, whether that is cooking together, chatting over coffee and cake, or a dinner date. In all of these things resides some type of culture. I’m not talking about the culture of bonding over food and occasions, but rather the globalisation of different ethnicities and cultures. Globalisation plays a part in identifying why food brings us to a table in some sort of harmony. Culture affects the way we think about food, the way we present it, and the way we eat it.
In South Asian culture, for example, whether you are religious or not, food is handled in some raw sacred sense: feet are not to be near it, rice should not reach the floor and every last grain is savoured. Food is placed gently on the plate, hands are used to savour a different taste that cutlery cannot provide, and it all artistically comes together. It’s a picture that brings South Asian families together every night, or at least every Sunday afternoon.
That post-Sunday lunch bliss is not too different in British culture as Sunday roasts encompass that same feeling. The sentiment of family is felt through the cooking and eating of a warm plate of food after the end of a busy week occupied with our own things.
In the Western world, cultural integration is blossoming at an increasing rate and part of that is through cuisine. It’s no surprise we’ve become more interested in each other’s cultures, which entail our languages, traditions, and our food –essentially what we fill our brains and our bellies with. And if not; if you’re simply interested in globalised food and nothing more, I bet you’ve still enjoyed part of another culture, whether at a niche little Ethiopian restaurant on the outskirts of London or a well-known Chinese Takeaway across the street.
Memory
If you’ve ever cooked with someone, you most likely haven’t done it in silence. You talk and bond through language, and it embeds itself as a memory into the food, which you then eat. Whether it was atrociously good or bad, you still remember it. If you’re cooking for someone, you’re providing them with nourishment, which works as a love language. It’s saying, ‘I’ve put some time and some thought into providing you with palatable food, so you can enjoy it’, and they’ll remember that.
If it’s an occasion, it brings multitudes of people together – take Christmas dinner for example. Religious or not, anyone who celebrates Christmas will most likely do so through food. It’s the social agent of any event. Months after, you have a memory of the entire process. The clattering of oven trays, something roasting, something bubbling over, the clink of glasses, the scratch of cutlery, the laughter over leftovers; or perhaps its quieter and it’s the rustle of blankets, the low hum of an oven and the murmur of the tv. Whatever it is, there’s food involved and you experience that overbearing satiety with friends or family; you share the memory.
We go out and spend money on brunches, lunches, and dinners sometimes just to catch up and converse with our friends or family, which is itself a loving gesture. It’s saying, ‘I’m willing to share my hunger, time, and money to connect with you. You’re worth experiencing satiety with’. At least, that’s how I interpret it. Such occasions can sometimes feel a little empty without food as the sensual experience of eating yields memory, even when it is gone.
Words By: Anushka Kar
Design By: Mia Wilson