As this semester is wrapping up, I am reflecting on how much my understanding of the rhetoric of food has expanded. One of my favorite readings this semester was Lucky Peach‘s “A Guide to Venezuelan Arepas.” Just like with the rhetoric of food, arepas were something that I have always enjoyed without really understanding the context behind them. This article, by Allie Lazar and Gustavo Castillo, gave me a deeper understanding of both the iconic Venezuelan dish and of food writing in general. An arepa is a flattened disc of maize dough that is often served with choose, meats, alone, etc. Not only did this article provide me with a rich history and cultural background of the arepa, it also gave me a great appreciation of the dish. Before reading this article, I did not even know how arepas were made. Lazar and Castilla, however, do a great job at providing the readers with a brief, informative history on the dish and its preparation, the anatomy and fillings of arepas, and different variations, from the nourishing, colorful “huevos pericos” version (with creamy scrambled eggs, tomato, and garlic) to the dessert “arepita dulce” (a sweet version of the dish that is full of authentic, unrefined sugar cane). I did not know how much labor and effort it took to make the delicious circles of fried corn dough. What really stood out to me though was the authors’ connecting of the Venezuelan dish to Venezuela’s present state of affairs. In the past few years, Venezuelan life has been so inflicted with political turmoil and inflation that the Harina P.A.N. flour, that was once so commonly used to make the simple arepa, is now scarce and difficult to find in Venezuela. Still in spite of these obstacles, the people of Venezuela still find ways to consume and make the dish by returning to traditional preparations and using cassava root or sweet potato. By making this connection, the authors of this piece of food rhetoric taught me that the meaning of food is so much deeper than a sensory experience. Both food writing and food itself are ways to bond and connect with people during tough times and can even be a symbol of solidarity and strength. This text illustrated how. behind the delectablly rich, fried arepa, there is an even richer history and meaning. In addition to the actual text, I enjoyed this article for its unique, engaging animations of the different variations of arepas. Though I usually prefer real-life pictures of food, I think that the authors made a stylistic choice that is consistent with Lucky Peach‘s other publications and one that made me remember the authors’ words long after reading.
One of my favorite readings that I chose as part of my outside reading was Smitten Kitchen‘s “blood orange olive oil cake” recipe blog post. While I have been a long-time fan of Deb Perelman’s blog, I did not really fully appreciate her warm, personal writing style until I, myself, had to write an original composition that describes food in a way that’s original and expressive and not hackneyed, which was a lot more difficult than I thought. However, this recipe blog post is an exemplary example of how to write in a way that makes the readers feel as if they themselves were eating the food with the author. With phrases, such as “I was hoping for it to bake in a loaf pan, as rustic everyday cakes should, have a slight crunch at the edges, like a beloved one at a nearby coffee shop does…”, this text creates a personal, homey feeling and connection to the reader. Beyond that, I really enjoyed the time and effort that Deb Perelman took in taking and editing her aesthetically-pleasing pictures; they were the extra cherry-on-top that I needed to be convinced to make this recipe. ASAP. As for the recipe itself, I appreciated that she also took care to provide the reader with additional instructions on special techniques (i.e. how to supreme an orange); the recipe itself is clear and very approachable for beginning bakers. Overall, this piece showed me how all food rhetoric, even recipes, have more than a surface-level meaning. Perelman shows that through her very personal food writing, she creates a community and welcomes her readers into her home.
Because of texts like these and because of the diverse collection of classmates’ original compositions, my understanding of the rhetoric of food has greatly expanded. Before this class, if someone had asked me about the rhetoric of food, I would have automatically only thought of recipes. Clearly, though, I have come to understand that the rhetoric of food is so much more. Food writing is a way to describe a culture, tell a story, advocate for change, connect the current generation with the past, etc. Additionally, the rhetoric of food can take on so many mediums. Not just limited to traditional texts, the rhetoric of food can also be a video, a “listicle”, a food quiz, etc. Simply put, the rhetoric of food is diverse and unlimited. There are so many genres and topics that I cannot believe that I never even considered. After engaging with my classmates’ original compositions, I realized that the rhetoric of food can give great insight into someone’s personality or other talents. For example, some videos showed a person’s tongue-in-cheek humor, while others’ review displayed the writer’s artistic, stylistic skills. This class opened my eyes to the broad world of food writing that I hope to continue to explore outside of our course!