Category Archives: film

by foodanthro | March 9, 2016 · 11:11 pm

The Best Food Film Not About Food

David Beriss
University of New Orleans

Is it possible that the best food movie ever made is not a food movie?

Last fall I was teaching a course in urban anthropology and another course on food and culture. When I teach the latter, I usually provide the students with a short list of recommended movies to go with the course. These are mostly not ethnographic films or even documentaries (although I sometimes include a few). Instead, I recommend popular films that illustrate some of the points we are discussing in the class. I decided to do the same thing for the urban anthropology class and in an effort to simplify my life, I tried to make the two lists more or less the same. So most of the films I picked had both food and urban themes.

It was not especially hard to find movies that fit this description. Out of ten movies, there were only two that really had very little food content. One of those was Wim Wender’s “Wings of Desire,” although there is a least one very sensual scene in which Peter Falk tries to explain the pleasures of the flesh—including food—to an angel while standing in front of a sausage stand in Berlin (I suppose the movie’s title could itself be a kind of food-related pun). The other was “Milk,” Gus Van Sant’s film about Harvey Milk, whose last name is probably the closest thing to a food-related part of the movie. Food was central to seven of the other films. The movies were: “Ratatouille,” “Jiro Dreams of Sushi,” “Julie and Julia,” “Tampopo,” “Toast,” “Babette’s Feast,” and “Chef.” It is safe to say that all of these would be on a foodie’s list of must-see-movies. They pair well with anthropology as well. Ratatouille has even been written about by anthropologists! (I forgot to include “The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover” this year, but that film deserves its own blog entry on history and anthropology anyhow.)

That leaves one movie. I picked Spike Lee’s “Do the Right Thing,” as a film about race, ethnic conflict, community, gentrification, and violence. I did not really think of it as a food movie and, frankly, it does not seem like anybody else does either. Yet a great deal of the movie takes place in and around a pizzeria in Brooklyn and the main character, Mookie (played by Lee) works there as a delivery guy. The movie’s central conflict is focused on the lack of representation of African American heroes on the restaurant’s walls. And the movie culminates with a riot in front of the pizzeria, in which one of the main characters is killed by the police and the restaurant is destroyed. Neighborhood pizzerias are of course iconic symbols of New York City. In Lee’s movie, the pizzeria is owned by an Italian (Sal, played by Danny Aiello) and his two sons (Vito and Pino, Richard Edson and John Turturro, respectively), who do not live in the neighborhood (Bedford-Stuyvesant). Along with Mookie, they are the entire restaurant crew. The Italian ethnicity of the pizza place is marked in both discourse and by the pictures of Italian and Italian-American celebrities on the walls. The African American character of the surrounding neighborhood is also marked in a variety of ways. Yet Lee shows that the conflict that ensues is not an inevitable result of that ethnic difference. It is clear that the restaurant is a neighborhood institution and that eating there is really central to local life. Everyone eats at Sal’s. The conflict springs from somewhere else in American culture, but like everything in life, it happens locally.

This is in the middle of a hot New York summer in the 1980s, at a moment when there had been a number of racially motivated assaults on black people in the city. The threat of police violence and of mob violence seemed to loom over the city. There were also tensions surrounding corner grocery shops, often owned at that time by Korean immigrants, a situation portrayed in the film. The movie also references gentrification, which was beginning to sweep through neighborhoods in Brooklyn. But what is striking to me is the thickness with which Lee draws his characters. Even as Lee notes the tensions of the moment (and invokes America’s history of racism and conflict), the people in the movie are shown to have complicated histories with each other and with the neighborhood…and with Sal’s pizza. In fact, the character who instigates the movie’s conflict, Buggin’ Out (played by Giancarlo Esposito), is a regular at the pizzeria himself. The movie’s tensions and the riot, death, and fire, are all the more moving precisely because it is a conflict among people who know each other intimately.

Many movies that we think of as food movies make food their central character. They might even border on what people call “food porn,” in which the food becomes an almost unrealistically beautiful object of desire (“Tampopo,” it is worth noting, can be seen as an early satire of this sort of thing). “Do the Right Thing” does not make pizza into this kind of object of desire. It is not food porn. You may not even desire a slice after you see it. But it identifies a central institution in New York—the neighborhood pizzeria—and builds a story around that institution that reveals a great deal about communities and conflicts in the city. I think that this may make “Do the Right Thing” one of the best food movies. And it is not even a food movie.

2 Comments

Filed under anthropology, anthropology of food, film, Food Studies

Tagged as Anthropology of Food, film, food studies, pizza, spike lee

by foodanthro | September 11, 2014 · 4:03 am

Food Forward on PBS

David Beriss
University of New Orleans

Food Forward is a new documentary series on PBS focusing on people experimenting with new (and sometimes very old) ways of producing food in the United States. The broadcast schedule is available on the PBS website and you can also watch full episodes there. There is a great deal of information about the show available on the Food Forward website as well.

If you visit the web site, you will see that the directors try to distinguish their shows from the cooking competitions, restaurant rescues, and searches for exotic foods that populate food television. But this is PBS, so that is not really a relevant comparison. Instead, Food Forward differentiates itself by not being another documentary about why our food system is inexorably leading us to nutritional and environmental doom. The makers of Food Forward argue that we need a way out, a plan, a way to save ourselves. The episodes document the stories of people who are trying to make food better. They call them “Food Rebels,” because they are taking on the industrial food system, finding ways to produce foods that they claim are environmentally sustainable, healthy, tasty, sometimes even affordable.

I have watched two episodes and the food rebellion looks delicious, the landscapes look beautiful, even the people seem spiritual and remarkably handsome. It would be easy to be cynical about all this — so much optimism in the face of our massive industrial food system might be a bit quixotic. But there is in fact quite a lot to think about here. There are fascinating food innovations, including sustainable farm raised fish in the very first episode. A lot of the innovations are described as efforts to return to older ways of doing things–from fishing with weirs to raising grass-fed beef without antibiotics or hormones. The farmers and fishers who are doing these things are also finding ways to make these methods profitable. These are hopeful films and, frankly, it is easy (and pleasurable) to get swept up in the optimism.

The two episodes I watched, “Go Fish!” and “The Meat of the Matter,” are about fishers, ranchers, and farmers, documenting both production (on ranches, boats, fish farms, etc.) and distribution (community supported fisheries, community supported farmers, restaurants, markets, etc.). There will be episodes that explore urban farming, GMOs, obesity, school lunch, and even hunting (at least 5 episodes are currently available on the PBS site; I assume more are to come). If all the episodes are as good as the first two, any of them could be usefully shown in anthropology classes dealing with food and culture. There is a great deal here to generate discussion among students, many useful questions to be raised. The length of the episodes (about 25 minutes each) also lends itself to class use. Take a look. Let us know (in the comments section) what you think.

CFP: Anthropology of Child Feeding

CFP for Annual Meeting of the American Anthropological Association

December 3-7, 2014, Washington, D.C.

Panel Organizers: Chelsea Wentworth (University of Pittsburgh) and Lisa Garibaldi (UC Riverside)

Employing Visual and Digital Methods to Produce an Enhanced Anthropology of Child Feeding

This panel investigates the use of visual methods in researching childhood dietary practices. Drawing on the recent resurgence of interest in the experience of childhood and the expansion of visual methodologies, these papers will contribute to our understanding of the practice of child feeding. The intersect of visual methods as instruments of data collection and the study of child feeding provides greater insight into our understandings of how children access food, children’s food preferences, and the decision-making processes of caregivers as they feed children. We operationalize child feeding as any interaction that a caregiver or the child has in making food choices, and consuming food. Much research on child feeding practice has relied on heavily quantitative measures that examine nutritional value of foods and child growth (see Birch et al. 2003, Pelto et al. 2010). However, we argue that our understandings of the practice of child feeding are greatly advanced through the use of visual methods.

Filmic, photographic, and artistic representations of food production, distribution and consumption enable anthropologists to analyze the role food plays in the enculturation and the nutrition of children, particularly when these materials are gathered in conjunction with other methods such as participant observation, focus groups and interviews that allow for the contextualization of these data. We seek papers that discuss innovative visual methods including, but not limited to photo-elicitation, photovoice, visual voices, ethnomimesis, and drawing exercises, which create an opportunity for anthropologists to see participants’ perspectives of child feeding, leading to more nuanced understandings of human behavior. Visual methods, then, provide a way for researchers to gather data potentially inaccessible via other methods; for example, photographing food can help researchers work with illiterate caregivers who could not keep dietary journals, and illustrations can help young children, who have a hard time verbalizing, communicate.

Visual methods are not new to anthropology, indeed Mead and Bateson’s pioneering research using ethnographic film and photos dates to the 1930s and 40s. With the rapid advancement in digital technologies and increasing affordability of these products, however, ethnographers and research participants have more tools available than ever before through the use of products like camera phones and online media sharing websites. Acknowledging previous research on the use of visual methods in anthropology, this panel will examine how visual methods are applied in the study of child feeding. These methods help researchers gather data from both the children’s perspectives, as well as their caregivers.

We seek papers from all geographic regions that address methods in which the participants themselves create the images, helping anthropologists achieve a variety of objectives including, but not limited to: engaging in participatory and community-based research; helping participants use their film, photography, and artwork as forms of community activism; viewing activities and behaviors that occur when the anthropologist is not present. Additionally, we seek papers where the ethnographer creates the visual record capturing the process, movement, and fluidity of activities and events, as well as interactions, behaviors and food preferences. Keeping in mind the ways that we produce anthropology today, we argue that this mix of participant-driven and ethnographer-driven data collection using visual methodologies will foster new conversations and collaborations amongst those researchers engaging in food studies and visual methods. We encourage submissions that include innovative presentations of data in an effort to support the AAA’s work to “Reimagine the Typical AAA Presentation Format.”

Those interested in presenting a paper for this panel, please submit a 250 word abstract to Chelsea Wentworth cwm23@pitt.edu and Lisa Garibaldi lisagaribaldi@gmail.com on or before Friday, March 28, 2014. We will notify you by April 4^th if your abstract has been selected to be a part of the panel.

Anarchist Table Manners

David Sutton
Department of Anthropology
Southern Illinois University

So you’re seated at a table with a dozen strangers. Hungry, you’ve got a bowl of some sort of stew in front of you, and a large-handled, wooden spoon. The only problem—like everyone else at the table, you’re wearing a straightjacket. What do you do?

This was the problem posed to the main character of the 2013 movie The East. And spoiler alert, this is a good scene that I don’t want to ruin for the reader, so I urge you to see the movie before you read on. The East, by the way, might have flown under your radar screen. Released in the spring of 2013, it is a tense thriller focused on an eco-anarchist group and a private security firm’s attempt to infiltrate it, from the pen of Brit Marling and Zal Batmanglij (Marling also stars in the film, along with Ellen Page and Alexander Skarsgard). While the film got mixed reviews (some complaining about the idealistic ending), I found it to be a compelling story and a meditation on different kinds of political action in the present.

The scene comes fairly early in the movie when the main character Sarah (Brit Marling) has been taken to the hideout of The East by faking a serious injury as part of her plan to infiltrate the group. She is treated for her injury and while recovering she is invited to dinner, but not before she has donned the straightjacket. The putative leader of the group, Benji (Skarsgard), suggests that as their guest, Sarah should begin. This is the part of the scene where the viewer is put into Sarah’s perspective, trying to figure out how to proceed. After lifting the spoon with her teeth and seeing the seeming futility of this, Sarah drops the spoon. Then she puzzles for a bit longer before finally grabbing the side of the bowl in her teeth and lifting it up so that she is able to slurp a little bit of the stew into her mouth. Sarah looks up at the others, chewing in a seemingly self-satisfied manner. They all nod at her politely, then they pick up their spoons in their teeth, and, turning their heads to the side, proceed to feed each other. Sarah storms off feeling humiliated by this “lesson” in her own selfishness.

Some readers may recognize the basis for this scene in the allegory of the long spoons, a parable that can be found in a number of different cultures and religious traditions. Kirin Narayan discusses her discovery of this story in multiple religious/cultural traditions, and analyses a Hindu version of the story in detail, in her book Storytellers, Saints, and Scoundrels: Folk Narrative in Hindu Religious Teaching (1989, University of Pennsylvania Press). In this allegory, retold here by Bishop Desmond Tutu, it is Heaven and Hell that are being distinguished, i.e., Heaven is where people feed each other, Hell is where people are surrounded by sumptuous meals but unable to eat because they have failed to realize their interdependence. This allegory clearly encapsulates the moral significance of reciprocity and interdependence, and suggests that the radical individualism associated with untrammeled capitalism is, in fact, a hell on earth.

Similar techniques are also used in some anarchist groups (David Graeber, personal communication, December 12, 2013). However I think the scene is strikingly effective in the context of a U.S. culture where eating has become a key practice of individual choice and identity. My hypothesis is that the “solution” to this conundrum simply doesn’t occur to most Americans, steeped in a culture in which the recognition that eating involves the labor of other people has been deeply attenuated. Thus all 10 students who watched the movie in my class expressed surprise at this scene. By contrast when I described this scene to a table of Greek anthropologists they immediately guessed the direction of the scene. This perhaps shouldn’t have surprised me as I have been working on a project looking at the food-based responses to neoliberal policies in Greece, all of which center around the symbolic value of food in expressing ideas about social solidarity (see the previous FoodAnthropology posts on food used in Greek politics here, here and here).

Western Middle-Class common sense has often been skewered through challenging table manners, most famously in Bunuel’s film The Phantom of Liberty in which using the toilet is done publicly and is a site of sociability, while eating is seen as a disgusting act only to be done in private. While Bunuel’s point is the cultural arbitrariness of table manners and the scene from The East suggests a potentially universal message of interconnectedness, both scenes are reminders of how central food is to our human sociability, and perhaps together could form a good starting point for courses on food and culture.

4 Comments

Filed under anthropology, film, food politics, Food Studies

Tagged as anarchism, Anthropology, criticism, film, food politics, food studies

by foodanthro | November 20, 2012 · 1:12 am

Smokin’ Fish, Smokin’ Culture

by David Beriss

Is it possible to be an authentic Indian in a society overrun with tourists who want to buy bits and pieces of Indian culture? Are those bits and pieces authentic if they are manufactured in Asia? How can people maintain their traditional foodways if the government forbids them from catching enough fish? Can a balance be found between the needs of native fishers and public policies designed to preserve fisheries? Is there room for any kind of distinctive cultural identity in a globalized, touristic, heavily regulated society like that of the contemporary United States? Also, are salmon some sort of deity?

Cory Mann. Photo from Native American Public Communications.

These are the kinds of questions raised by the fascinating film “Smokin’ Fish.” The documentary is the result of a collaboration between Luke Griswold-Tergis and Cory Mann. Having finished an undergraduate degree in anthropology at UC Santa Cruz, Griswold-Tergis set off to Alaska, where he met Mann. Mann is just the kind of person who makes it hard to define culture. He is Tlingit and an entrepreneur with a business designing tchotchkes based on native Alaskan designs. His products are manufactured in Asia for resale in Alaska. Yet even as he pursues his global efforts at mass marketing native culture, he is also deeply engaged in exploring his own cultural identity. The collaboration between Griswold-Tergis and Mann has produced “Smokin’ Fish,” a documentary that explores the connections between native culture, global capitalism, colonialist exploitation of indigenous people, the environment, sustainable fishing and entrepreneurialism. Oh, and smoked salmon. And bears.

Smoking Fish. Photo from Native American Public Communications.

Mann seems to be quite a dynamic entrepreneur, pursuing several different business ventures at any given time, most with some sort of tie-in to Tlingit culture. But for a few months each summer, he closes things down in Juneau and heads back to Klukwan, where his extended family lives. There he works with members of his clan to catch and smoke salmon. The fish, both alive and smoked, are central to the film’s story. Mann asserts at various points that Tlingit worship the fish. The smokehouses they build seem central to their foodways. But this is not all about subsistence fishing. Some Tlingit engage in what appears to be commercial fishing. The smoked fish are also used in trade with other native Alaskans.

The film subtly weaves in the kind of ethnographic details that highlight what is distinctive—and unexpected—about contemporary Tlingit life. Mann explains that his mother took him to San Diego as a small child, where they lived what seems like a counter-cultural kind of life, more hippy than Indian. He never knew his father, who was white. At some point an aunt retrieved him and brought him back to Alaska, where he was raised by a large group of female relatives. This makes sense since, as Mann points out, the Tlingit are matrilineal. It is that kind of detail, along with discussions of clans and houses (Mann is a member of the Eagle Thunderbird Clan) and about the ways in which people build and maintain relationships (by helping build and maintain smokehouses, for instance), that remind us that even in a society heavily dominated by Euro-American values, groups like the Tlingit retain at least some aspects of cultural distinctiveness.

At the same time, the Tlingit continue to struggle with their relationship with non-native authorities. They must deal with the limits on fishing imposed by the state of Alaska, including both licenses and limits that would make it impossible for them to catch enough fish to meet their needs (these are very much ongoing debates, if recent news out of Alaska is any indication). The conflict here surpasses any kind of stereotypes about native relationships with the environment vs. rapacious outsiders. The Tlingit are presented as complex people with interests in salmon that are both traditional and commercial, not as natural environmentalists. Mann also must struggle with federal tax authorities, who do not seem to understand the unusual way in which he runs his business. He has to deal with border officials, as he goes to visit and trade with other natives in nearby Canada. I should note that he does all this while displaying a wry sense of humor and while using an astonishing array of vehicles, all of which appear to be in dire need of repair.

Filmed mostly in Alaska, much of the movie is quite breathtaking. Mann does his fishing from a canoe, in areas of stunning natural beauty. There is an amazing number of eagles flying around the region, as well as both brown and grizzly bears competing with the people for the fish. In addition, members of Mann’s extended family provide a wide range of additional voices, commenting on the history of native/nonnative relations, the exploitation of Tlingit lands, and the challenges they face in maintaining any kind of attachment to their heritage.

The movie is currently traveling around the U.S. Details on where it may go next can be found here. The filmmakers have a Facebook page as well. “Smokin’ Fish” would make a very useful addition to a variety of anthropology courses, including any food and culture course, as well as introductory cultural anthropology classes, courses on indigenous cultures or even on globalization. It can be used to start discussions on food, kinship, identity and, of course, culture. I recommend, however, making sure you have some smoked fish on hand when you show it. The audience will be hungry.

1 Comment

Filed under Alaska, anthropology, culture, economics, film, fish, food security, hunting, indigenous people, media, seafood, sustainability

Tagged as Alaska, culture, fish, food, Food policy, Food security, food studies, globalization, Indian, seafood, sustainability, Tlingit

by foodanthro | August 14, 2012 · 2:31 am

Hungry in the South Symposium

Science and Technology: Past, Present, and Future

September 13 -16

Save the Date!

Join the Southern Food and Beverage Museum this September 13-16 for the Hungry in the South 2012 weekend!

Bringing together everyone from scholars, students, collectors, chefs, filmmakers, and community members, to senior Federal government policy-makers, senior nonprofit and NGO executives, and senior corporate executives, this packed weekend in one of the world’s culinary capitals will be a celebration and exploration of food you don’t want to miss! Please send any questions or comments to info@southernfood.org or call 504-569-0405.

To purchase tickets to any of the following events, please use the Brown Paper Tickets link below. The events are sorted by date, so please check the date of the event you would like to purchase a ticket to. If you are a SoFAB Member, contact Kelsey Parris for your member discount code. Please follow each event link below to see a full description and pricing breakdown.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Film Feast Opening Night: SoFAB adds Film Feast to its Hungry in the South weekend-long events menu. The food-focused film festival launches with a reception and inaugural screening, at the Zeitgeist Multi-Disciplinary Arts Center (1618 Oretha Castle Haley Blvd).
Opening of SoFAB’s first international exhibit: Four Centuries of Coffee: Brazil to New Orleans and Beyond. The exhibit will explore the symbiotic/interdependent relationship that began in the 1700’s, developed, and grew as Brazil became the world’s # 1 source of coffee beans and the Port of New Orleans became “the coffee port” of the United States which is the # 1 coffee-consuming country in the world.

Friday, September 14, 2012

The Continuing Legal Education Seminar: Food, Drink and the Law: SoFAB’s Continuing Legal Education Seminar is presented in partnership with Tulane University Law School and the Louisiana Restaurant Association. The seminar presentations will range in topic from issues of interest to restaurants, such as the rise of food trucks to recent developments in the Farm Bill.

Film Feast: Film Feast screenings continue throughout the day.
SoFAB’s Hard Hat Gala at 1504 O.C. Haley Boulevard: Friday evening features the Hungry in the South SoFAB Gala, to be held in the new and under-renovation home of the Southern Food & Beverage Museum. The “hard-hat soirée” will afford revelers a preview of SoFAB’s new museum facility.

Opening of Dr. Bob’s States of Taste: This year the featured exhibit that opens the Hungry in the South celebration is one that like the gala looks forward to SoFAB’s new facility. These signs, works of art in themselves, offer their own artistic vision and are a clue to the level of fun, culture and surprise that the new facility will represent.

Saturday, September 15, 2012

The Symposium at the Southern Food and Beverage Museum: The annual symposium is themed Science and Technology: Past, Present, and Future. This topic will allow the participants, whether scholars or journalists or the interested public, to explore the role of science and technology in food, foodways, and beverages.
The Nexus of Food And Social Media: Contemporary Issues in Southern Food and Beverages Lecture presented by Steve Bryant, Managing Director of MSL Seattle and the Director of Food & Beverage for MSLGROUP Americas. The Contemporary Issues in Southern Food and Beverages Lecture Series is presented by Domino Foods, Inc. 2012 marks the third year of this popular event that closes-out the Symposium.

Symposium Reception
Film Feast: Film Feast screenings continue throughout the day.

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Board of Directors’ Brunch and Meeting
Film Feast: Film Feast screenings continue throughout the day and conclude with an awards ceremony.
French Market Cookbook Fair: The French Market Cookbook Fair will take place during the day on Sunday at the French Market. This event includes a cookbook swap, book signings, rare and used cookbooks, and demonstrations.

To purchase tickets to any of the following events, please use the Brown Paper Tickets link below. Please follow each event link to see a full description and pricing breakdown.

If you’re interested in volunteering your time at the Symposium, please email Lucy Rosenbloom at lucy@southernfood.org for more information.

Food Stamped, The Documentary

by Janet Chrzan

A few days ago I provided a shout-out about Food Stamped to several listserves (including SAFN). In that email I wrote:

“I’d like to provide a big shout-out for the recent documentary “Food Stamped.”

It’s a movie made by a couple in Berkeley about trying to live on a food stamp budget. She teaches food education and healthy eating in elementary schools. In the movie they interview quite a lot of folks about food stamp use, from people reliant upon them to members of congress. It’s 1 hour long, which makes it do-able for many classrooms.

I particularly liked their relatively non-judgmental attitude about food choice, especially since they live in Berkeley (epicenter of foodie-ism) and were shopping at the Berkeley Bowl and Adronico’s, my old stomping grounds. In other words, they come from an area that in my experience is very, very judgmental about food choice, yet much of that is left out or reflected upon in a meaningful manner by the filmmakers. They discussed the issues of ‘healthy choice’ within the context of budget constraints in a way that was very accessible and allows for a great deal of classroom discussion, especially since they lay out their own biases verbally so that the viewer can understand how they are thinking through the issues.

A particularly strong scene involved trying to feed a Shabbat guest on a budget, since they made the comment that all people like to have guests and be social, and so it’s important to think about how food poverty affects social opportunities.”

The responses to my post have been interesting, from emails from people who have seen the film (and like it) to a spirited discussion initiated by a fellow who, having seen the short trailer (and only the short trailer), wrote a couple of long emails about how the filmmakers had essentially gotten it all wrong, although bully for the effort. This prompted a civil response from the filmmakers (delivered by an intermediary) to which our fellow responded yet again, with the same basic message. He did mean well, but his response demonstrated just how contentious food issues can be, even for people who more-or-less agree with each other.

The bottom line? This film uses the idea of a low budget (in this case, one derived from food stamp benefits) to explore eating healthy on a small and fixed income. The filmmakers use themselves as guinea pigs and rely on realistic cinema techniques to demonstrate to the viewer how they think through and act upon trying to eat on a restricted budget. They discuss the process with people from the community, lawmakers, and those reliant on food stamps. Of particular interest to them is how people can eat a healthy diet and remain healthy on such a restricted budget, and they focus on the ugly fact that cheap food is often unhealthy, yet within the budgets of the poor. With this frame they examine school food and the decisions made by school administrators about how to feed children. They are refreshingly free of anger, judgmental attitudes, and smugness throughout the film which is yet another reason that I think it’s an effective teaching tool.

A few of the discussion points that I intend to raise in class after showing this film include:

What is a healthy diet? Is their ‘healthy diet’ your ‘healthy diet’?
How much do we each spend on food weekly/monthly?
How and why is healthy food more expensive than unhealthy food, according to the movie?
Do you find that to be the case when you shop?
What are the aims of the Food Stamp program?
Are families meant to survive on a Food Stamp budget, or are there assumptions built into the calculations that posit other food income as well?
Do we as a society, acting through our government, have an ethical responsibility to make sure people can eat? Why or why not?
If you were a nutritionist and were advising a diabetic client on Food Stamps what would you suggest he/she eat and why? How would you work out a budget with that client?
Do you have the skills to shop and cook as wisely and carefully as Shira and Yoav did?
Do you know enough about food and cooking to live on a diet of beans and rice?
What kind of knowledge do you need to acquire in order to feel comfortable about planning meals on a small budget?

Obviously, these are just my first thoughts and jottings about how to use the film in teaching. But part of the reason that I think it’s such a valuable film is that I realized that I have NO IDEA what I spend on a weekly or monthly basis for food for my husband and myself. I have a big freezer and tend to plan and buy so that my larder (protein and grains/beans) can feed us for several weeks without shopping; only vegetables and dairy are purchased on a weekly basis (and at a pretty reasonable farmers’ market). My meat is all pastured, as are eggs and dairy, so I know I spend more per pound than most Americans. However, we also eat less meat/dairy than most carnivores so I figure it evens out. And I like rice and beans, and eat that way by preference, while I know that most Americans prefer meat to beans and prepared carbs to simple grains. I do know how to budget, I do know how to cook and I never waste food (because I am really, really cheap), but I am quite sure that eating on a food stamp budget would be difficult indeed.

The other discussion point – and I’m not yet sure how to frame these questions – is tied to the assumptions and contentions about food choice, knowledge and capacities. I am often gobsmacked by the tendency of food people to insist that their way – and only their way – is the good way to eat. Obviously, I like this movie because the filmmakers don’t do that… but the Listserve response has had a wee tinge of that sentiment. Food is so personal and intimate, and choice so tied to identity (especially in our capitalistic society) that people are naturally heavily invested in justifying their choices as ‘good better BEST!’ to themselves and others. But seriously, the vehemence that many bring to this issue baffles me. Somehow, I suspect that this film – and the student response to it – will allow us to discuss this difficult issue in the classroom. And I hope by doing so the students are able to begin to glimpse how their biases channel their beliefs about food and nutriture.