On hunger, food justice, and decolonization

I’m not sure how much I’ve written about it here in this blog, but in case it’s not apparent, I’m a huge nerd / graduate student. While I’ve long loved food, cooking, and writing about those things, an even bigger part of my personal and professional interest lies in researching about food politics, globalization, and decolonization movements.

There’s the big picture stuff I look at:  the ways in which the production of commodity crops has left farmers and their families in the US and all over the world with little to nothing to eat; the exportation of government-subsidized American surplus crops like rice to Third World nations who buy at it ridiculously marked up costs when HELLO they can and should be growing it domestically anyway; and the structural adjustment programs undertaken by nations like the Philippines as a condition to receive loans from the World Bank, programs which have totally destroyed the economy and society of these nations. A bit heavy, but really important especially when trying to make educated decisions about where you decide to spend your money, or where to get your food, or who to vote for… you get my gist. (You can read Raj Patel’s excellent and easily-accessible, aka not full of academic jargon, book Stuffed and Starved for the background if you want to know more! Or South Asian ecofeminist Vandana Shiva’s brilliant and brief collection, Manifestos on the Future of Food and Seed, featuring essays by the likes of Michael Pollan.)

So that’s the food politics and globalization part. But even more exciting to me is the decolonization part– you know, the part where people of color in First World nations like the US, and folks in the global South work to change their communities and nations for the better, and by more than just signing a petition. The community gardens and people’s groceries; the organized farm workers’ and peasants’ movements; the films, YouTube videos, and other cultural productions people make around food justice; even the decolonial kitchens that many undertake in the privacy of their own homes: these movements, big and small, are inspiring, empowering, and have offered me more sustenance (materially and symbolically) than I could ever give back. But I try, to give back that is, and want to use this little space on the internet to start documenting this work a little more. The pretty pictures and food reviews will still be there, but perhaps different, a little more intentional, maybe.  Also, but not unrelated, I’ve been taking some steps more recently to change my own eating and fitness habits, that I might be documenting here, too.

So, we’ll see how this goes. My posts will probably be erratic, and may never be regular, but I’m excited to begin talking more about my political and academic work–and yummy food– in the same space.

Til next time… eat well!

(Photo taken by Anne D. Umil for Bulatlat, of recent protests around Hacienda Luisita in the Philippines. I’ll be blogging more about this later, but for basic information on the situation, click here).

Letting go of old friends- the dreaded cookbook purge

We just moved yesterday (to a home with an AMAZING kitchen, more on that later!) and while the rest of the house is in disarray, my cookbooks are on their way to being perfectly placed and ordered on their dedicated bookcase. Talk about priorities, right?

Even though I don’t cook from cookbooks for everyday meals, I absolutely adore cookbooks. I love the big, luscious photos in David Tanis’ A Platter of Figs, even if I’ve not yet made a single thing from it; I love the yellowed, spiral-bound pages of the Cooking with Mickey Around Disneyworld cookbook that my mother gave me in 1985 (I was three years old then!). Flipping through my favorite cookbooks, searching for the perfect recipe hidden within is one of my favorite lazy-day pastimes, which are few and far between these days, sadly. In short, I couldn’t live without them.

As I unpack the third box of cookbooks, however, I am faced with the reality of the situation: that I have far too many cookbooks as it is, with a ‘bucket list’ of so many more, and quite a few duds in between. It’s so hard to part with them, even my little used, not-loved Rachael Ray cookbook from my college years. How can I let them go? But let some go I must, and fast (our garage sale is tomorrow).

How do you, all two readers of mine,  weed through your cookbook collection? Obviously there are some cookbooks that I just don’t use on any regular basis, but sometimes those cookbooks have one great, can’t-live-without recipe (I’m looking at you, risotto in Tyler Florence’s Real Kitchen). What do I do with those- photocopy and forget? Help this girl get rid of her excess cookbooks!

So this post isn’t too depressing, here’s a short list of cookbooks that you’ll never see me part with, the ones that, in a pinch, have never done me wrong:

Jacques Pepin’s Fast Food My Way: the man’s a genius, and the food is fast, tasty, and great for making fancy food for unexpected company.

Amy Besa and Romy Dorotan’s Memories of Philippine Kitchens: not an everyday kind of book, but a beautifully shot compendium of Philippine cooking from two of my favorite US-based Filipino chefs.

Talk About Good! by the Junior League of Lafayette Louisiana: real Cajun and Creole recipes (and some downright quirky ones, too) from the ladies of Louisiana. The recipes are so bad for you but oh so good.

Staff Meals from Chanterelle by David Waltuck: the beloved, now gone New York institution’s lighter side. Not the fancy French fare from the restaurant (the mister took me here for a memorable, but insanely pricey, birthday dinner one year), but the recipes from the meals cooked together by the staff. A surprisingly diverse, always tasty collection of recipes. Don’t get me started on their mac and cheese.

Recipes of the Philippines by Enriqueta David-Perez: it’s not the most well-known, or even the best, but my mother’s copy from the National bookstore helps me channel home.

What essential books are in your kitchen arsenal?