Beasts of habit, people expect some reminders of taste and
texture even when they know that what they eat or drink is the
result of a formula, not of natural processes. This is why the
almost fat-free hamburger, devised in laboratories for people in
need of nourishment adapted to new conditions of life and work,
will succeed or fail not on the basis of calories, but on the
simulation of the taste of the real thing. This is how the new
Coke failed. Non-alcoholic beer and wine, fat- and sugar-free ice
cream, low cholesterol egg, vegetable ham, and all substitutes
for milk, butter, and cream, to list a few, are in the same
situation. In the fast lane of the civilization of illiteracy, we
expect fast food: hamburgers, fish, chicken, pizza, and Chinese,
Indian, Mexican, Thai, and other foods. The barriers of time and
space are overcome through pre-processing, microwave ovens, and
genetic engineering. But we do not necessarily accept the
industrial model of mass production, reminiscent of literacy
characteristics quite different from those of home cooking.
We cannot afford those long cooking cycles, consuming energy and
especially time, that resulted in what some remember as the
kitchen harmony of smell and taste, as well as in waste and
dubious nutritional value, one should add. A McDonalds
hamburger is close to the science fiction image of a world
consuming only the energy source necessary for functioning. But
the outlet reminds one of machines. It is still a manned
operation, with live operators, geared to offer a uniform
industrial quality. However, the literate structure gives way to
more effective functioning. At intervals defined by a program
continuously tracking consumption, the restaurant is stocked with
the pre-processed items on the menu. None of the cooks needs to
know how to write or read; food preparation is on-line, in real
time. And if the requirements of the pragmatics of the
civilization of illiteracy overcome the current industrial
model, the new McDonalds will be able to meet individual
expectations no less restricted than those of the Internet
pizza providers. If this does not happen, McDonalds and its many
imitators in the world will disappear, just as many of the mass
production food manufacturers have already disappeared.
The mediating nature of the processes involved in nourishment is
revealing. Between the natural and artificial sources of
protein, fats, sugar, and other groups recommended for a
balanced meal and the person eating them with the expectation of
looking, feeling, and performing better, of living longer and
healthier, there are many layers of processing, controlling, and
measuring. Many formulas for preparation follow each other, or
are applied in parallel cycles. After we made machines that
resemble humans, we started treating ourselves as machines. The
digital engine stands for the brain, pump for the heart,
circuits for the nervous system. They are all subjected to
maintenance cycles, clean sources of energy, self-cleaning
mechanisms, diagnostic routines. The end product of food
production-a customized pizza, taco, egg roll, hamburger,
gefilte fish-resembles the "real thing," which is produced at the
lowest possible cost in a market in which literate food is a
matter of the past, a subject of reminiscence.
The new dynamics of change and the expectation of adaptability
and permanence associated with the nourishment of the
civilization of literacy collide at all levels involved in our
need to eat and drink. What results from this conflict are the
beautiful down-sized kitchens dominated by the microwave oven,
the new cookware adapted to the fast food and efficient
nourishment, the cooking instructions downloaded from the
digital network into the kitchen. The interconnectedness of the
world takes rather subtle aspects when it comes to food.
Microwave ovens can perfectly be seen as peripheral devices
connected to the smart kitchens of the post-industrial age, all
set to feed us once we push the dials that will translate a
desire, along with our health profile, into a code number.
Three-quarters of all American households (Barbie's included) use
a microwave oven. And many of them are bound to become an address
on the Internet, as other appliances already are.
The conflict between literate and illiterate nourishment is also
documented by the manner in which people write, draw, film,
televise, and express themselves about cooking and related
matters. This addresses the communication aspects of the
practical experience of what and how we eat. The people who could
go to their back yard for fresh onions or cabbage, get meat from
animals they hunted or tended, or milk their own cow or goat,
belong to a pragmatic framework different from that of people
who buy produce, meat, cheese, and canned and frozen food in a
small store or a supermarket. To communicate experiences that
vanished because of their low efficiency is an exercise in
history or fiction. To communicate current experiences in
nourishment means to acknowledge mediation, distribution of
tasks, networking, and open-endedness as they apply to
communication and the way we feed ourselves or are fed by
others. It also means to acknowledge a different quality.
Once upon a time, writing on food and dining was part of
literature. Food authorities have been celebrated as writers.
But with the advent of nourishment strategies, literate writing
gave way to a prose of recipes almost as idiosyncratic as
recipes for the mass production of soap, or cookbooks for
programming. Some gourmets complained. Food experts suggested
that precision was as good for cooking as temperature gauges.
The understanding of how close the act of cooking is to writing
about it, or, in our days to the tele-reality of the kitchen, or
to the new interactive gadgets loaded with recipes for the
virtual reality cooking game, is often missing. When conditions
for exercising fantasy in the kitchen are no longer available,
fantasy deserts the food pages and moves into the scripts of the
national gourmet video programs and computer games-or on Web
sites. Moreover, when predetermined formulas for bouillons,
salad dressings, cakes, and puddings replace the art of selecting
and preparing, the writing disappears behind the information
added according to regulation, as vitamins are added to milk and
cereals. A super-cook defines what is appropriate, and the
efficient formula turns our kitchens into private processing
plants ensuring the most efficient result. What is gained is the
possibility to assemble meals in combinations of nutritional
modules and to integrate elements from all over the world
without the risk of more than a new experience for our taste
buds. From the industrial age, we inherited processing
techniques guaranteeing uniformity of flavor and standards of
hygiene. The price we pay for this is the pleasure, the
adventure, the unique experience. Food writing is based on the
assumptions of uniformity. In contrast, cooking shows started
exploring the worlds of technological progress, in which you
don't cook because you are hungry or need to feed your family.
You do it for competitive reasons, in order to achieve
recognition for mastering new utensils and learning the names of
new ingredients. In the post-industrial, the challenge is to
break into the territory of innovation and ascertain practical
experiences of cooking, presentation, and eating, freed from
literate constraints.