The blessings of liberty
In my hometown there
are at least eight places to get a burger: Smash Burger, Fat Burger, Two Guys,
Freddy’s, Red Robin, and Village Inn, not to mention the steadfast Burger Kings
and McDonalds’. I could list off the same number of restaurants specializing in
Mexican, pizza, and Chinese. Clearly, Americans are not satisfied with only one
option for their favorite foods. What does this say about our culture? We like
choices. The ability to choose is an integral part of our country’s values. The
Bill of Rights protects our right to make decisions; we are guaranteed freedom
of religion, of speech, and of privacy in our own homes. Any career path is
open to us and we can strive to attend any college we choose. This principle
has clearly spilled over into the area of dining. By deciding when and where
and what to eat, we connect to our national identity. Food can also serve to
define us as individuals; the choices we make as consumers build our personal
identity through our individual tastes and the associations we create between
food and memories. Our personal identity
is the product of choice, and the ability to make those choices is essential to
our national identity. The freedom to choose and a need to individualize lead
to choice as a prevalent food value in American culture.
An example of how
choice is important in American society can be found in advertisement. The
purpose of advertisements is to attract consumers. To do so, advertisers must
look at the way people feel and think to make the most successful ad. Because
of this process, looking at how an advertisement appeals to its audience can
tell a lot about the consumer’s values and culture. Burger King’s ad campaign
markets to an audience that likes choice; they have been letting customers
“Have it [their] way” since 1954 (see Image 1). The ad that adorns paper tray
liners and hangs, framed on the walls of Burger King places the customer first;
underneath the bold “HAVE IT YOUR WAY,” the sub heading states “You have the
right to have what you want, exactly when you want it” (see Image 1). Burger
King has keyed into the fact that Americans like to choose what they eat and
not be limited to a few, pre-selected options. Being able to customize an order
allows individualization and a larger variety of choices.
On a broader scale,
simply noting the number of restaurants on any given commercial street
illustrates American’s need for variety. Pull off any major interstate exit and
a Wendy’s, Arby’s, Taco Bell, Subway, and some golden arches will be waiting.
Where there is one eatery, it’s not unusual to find three or more other options
nearby. Choice is obviously an important part of American culture. Being a
center for the great American pastime, a ballpark can function as a good
representation of this culture. At any baseball game, there are a variety of
people in the stands. From race and age to couples, friends, and families, the
fans at a ballgame really exemplify the American melting pot. While most may
come for the game, there is also something to be said for the food; the options
available at any given ballpark exemplify the principle of choice. When
I attended a weekend Rockies game at Coors Field, this food value was apparent;
the number and diversity of concessions was overwhelming.
Coors Field houses an array of
dining options from the traditional hot dog to the not so traditional basket of
oysters. The typical built-in concession stands sell hot dogs, hamburgers,
fries, popcorn, nachos, helmet sundaes and all other baseball staples. Free-standing carts carry Dippin’ Dots, cotton
candy, lemonade, and beer (Coors of course). In addition to this customary
fare, there are plenty of novelty food items. Tornadoughs (a cheese or cinnamon
covered twisted pretzel), salads, kettle corn, noodle bowls, burritos, and
chocolate-covered fruit kabobs can also be purchased around the stadium. A more
specialized burger can be found at Helton’s right behind left field as well as
ice cream at Madeline’s. The type of food is not the only choice people can
make at Coors Field; how someone eats is also up to them. For fans that don’t
enjoy holding food in their laps, two restaurants are located around the park,
the Mountain Ranch Bar and Grill and the Blue Moon smokehouse. For those who
don’t want to leave their seats, vendors move throughout the stands, hawking
frozen lemonade, hot chocolate, and beer.
Similar to the Burger King ad,
Coors Field allows fans to have it their way. With a multitude of choices,
everyone can enjoy exactly what they’re craving. This sample of American life
supports the food value of choice. A common value can create a unifying
identity; as cultural analysts Nancy Albrecht and Brian Fortney note, “When
individuals hold ‘core’ identity labels they are very deeply committed to the
fundamental values and beliefs associated with that group…” (182). For
Americans, one of these core labels can be considered choice; embodying this
value as a group constructs a national identity. This country was built on the
principle of a man’s right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. This
basic concept encompasses all areas of daily life, whether it is finally buying
a house or eating precisely what one wants for lunch. In the United States,
people identify as free; this includes the freedom to eat. We are free to
choose where, when, and what we eat; we can even choose who we share a meal
with. The selections made when preparing
for a meal reflects American beliefs; our national identity leads to the privilege
of choice.
Another way the food value of
choice plays out is through personal identity. Sociologist Claude Fischler
discusses how food is integral to a sense of identity (275). While national
identity is about belonging, personal identity is about being different.
Fischler states, “The way any given human group eats helps to assert its
diversity, hierarchy and organization, and at the same time, both its oneness
and otherness of whoever eats differently” (275). While a group of people may
identify as Americans, it is their differences that set them apart and make
them individuals. The choices a person make produce these differences; they serve
to define who he or she is, which includes the food he or she chooses to eat. Fischler
suggests two ways that food enters our identity: through our preferences and through
our memories.
Just
as Burger King allows its customers to personalize their meal, many restaurants
let the consumer pick and choose what goes onto their plate. At many sandwich
shops, the diner can construct his or her meal from the bread to the sauce.
Frozen yogurt places function similarly, permitting the customer to fill his or
her own bowl and add toppings. Restaurants like these allow customers to
express themselves; people “identify themselves in this framework by their
tastes and distastes” (Fischler 286). Throughout high school, I would frequent
Subway, grabbing a sandwich to go between activities. My usual is ham and white
American on parmesan oregano bread topped with lettuce, green peppers, and
spicy mustard. However trivial, each choice I make serves to define another
aspect of my being. The individual choices I make are “representations of [my]
‘self’ with multiple labels” (Albrecht and Fortney 182); each preference says
something about who I am. When I go to TCBY, I always order a chocolate
milkshake with Oreos and cheesecake mixed in. But I can also remember a time
when Nerds over a dish of vanilla frozen yogurt was my dessert of choice.
Food
produces strong personal connections for me. Being a military dependent, I have
lived many places in my life, and each place has come to be associated with a
different set of foods. Memories reinforce our identities by highlighting
aspects of our lives; my memories of places tend to revolve around the food I
experienced there. These foods serve as anchors for the many events of my
childhood. Nerds
in frozen yogurt reminds me of South Dakota and a day at the park and being
pulled down the street in my little red wagon to the local TCBY. Freezing
orange juice into popsicles brings back the feel of clay, catching bullfrogs in
the ditch, and the pebbled drive way of my house in Virginia. Food acts as a
stimulus for memories containing the places and actions that I identify with. Albrecht
and Fortney present this facet of identity as “a product of multiple discourses
and relationships” (182). We connect to past events, to “multiple discourses,”
to solidify our sense of self. Choices we made growing up provide the memories
that reinforce who we are in the present.
This
association between food and identity can be found within Geoff Nicholson’s
ruminations in “Eating White” and Roy Ahn’s reflections in “Home Run: My
Journey Back to Korean Food.” Growing up in England, “white” foods, bland meals
with a bland color, were common to the English diet (Nicholson). This was
especially true in the author’s household to the extent that he connects that
type of food with his mother. Nicholson eats a plain cheese sandwich made on
white bread in memory of his mother, showing how food is integrated into his
sense of self (Nicolson 21). These “white” foods connect him to his family and
country. Similarly, Ahn connects to his culture through the type of foods he
chooses to eat. As a child growing up in the States with Korean parents, Ahn
tried to find a happy medium between two very different cultures. He identified
himself as American or Korean through food. Eating out with friends, Ahn
downplayed his ethnic roots, while at home he enjoyed kimchi and ginseng
chicken stew (13-14). Later in the article, Ahn discusses imparting his mixed
culture on his newly-born son; he writes “…food remains a primary conduit
through which I hope to instill in him the lessons of one half of his ethnic
roots” (Ahn 15). As Ahn believes, when accompanied by meaningful connections,
food is a tool for building identity.
Americans love choices, especially where food is involved;
the sheer number of places to eat is a testament to this fact. Our inclination
for choice springs from the fundamental values of our country. The choices we then
make build our personal identities; through individual tastes and past
experiences, we define who we are. My family is completely Americanized.
We frequent Panda Express and Qdoba, and McDonald’s has been a staple in our
diet ever since I can remember. In addition to identifying on a national level,
we are each part of our own culture, with a unique set of dishes that define us.
The dishes I have experienced growing up serve as focal points for memories that
secure me to my identity. Crab cakes in Virginia; schnitzel, brochen, and curry
frites from Germany – each food says something about me. The choices we make,
whether it is because of personal taste or a connecting tradition, define who
we are. The next time you are craving a burger or maybe your mother’s pot roast,
note where and what you choose to eat. What might that say about you?
Works Cited
Ahn, Roy. "Home Run: My Journey Back to Korean
Food." Gastronomica: The Journal of Food and Culture 9.4 (2009): 12-15. Print.
Albrecht, Nancy and Brian Fortney. "Thinking Identity
Differently: Dynamics of Identity in Self andInstitutional Boundary." Cultural
Studies of Science Education 6.1 (2011): 181-186. OmniFile Full Text Select (H.W. Wilson).
Web. 14 Apr. 2012
Fischler, Claude. "Food, Self, and Identity." Social
Science Information 27.2 (1998): 275-92. Ebsco Host. Web. 22 Apr. 2012.
Nicholson, Geoff. "Eating White." Gastronomica: The Journal of Food and Culture 10.1 (2010): 21-23. Print.
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