“CHARCUTERIE IS JUST A SANDWICH YOU ASSEMBLE IN YOUR STOMACH.” For the blessedly uninitiated, a charcuterie board is an assemblage of cheeses, cured meats, bread and other small finger foods served on a wooden board as snacks (often for guests). Recently on Twitter, a user posted an image of their charcuterie board, and the following interaction took place:
Unlike what normally happens on the Twittersphere; people insult each other and then forget about whatever they were fighting about instantly - this response sparked an online debate over the privilege of the users involved and the cost of the charcuterie board. It quickly evolved into a discussion of class identity and workers solidarity. Twitter is in many ways a great way to witness class interaction and discourse; the home of every extreme viewpoint imaginable, people duke it, and their complete lack of shame and empathy creates a spectacle for the ages. The rest of us common folk are then left to decode messages, to try to understand what it all means. At the same time, Twitter is a vapid forum for any discourse. Tweets are sorted by popularity, not by their merit and the hot topic being discussed changes daily.
32
Charcuterie boards take advantage of food preservation methods traditionally used by the working class to make food last longer. For example, people without access to ice created cheese to preserve dairy just as curing meat was done for the same reason. Bread is a staple in baking and the human diet. This makes charcuterie boards being viewed as “rich people” food very odd. So how did we end up in a situation where working class people eating tiny deconstructed sandwiches makes them class traitors? “Low-calorie meals are what rich people eat.” We constantly take in information about what we see when we interact with the people around us. This can be seen in racial bias, sexism, slut-shaming; people are always absorbing signi-
