#endlesssupper

The Genealogy of the Supermarket. Nina Katchadourian. Framed photographs and wood on wallpapered wall, 144 x 360 inches, 2005-ongoing

Back when I lived in Austin, the Blanton had a Nina Katchadourian retrospective, and I was just absolutely blown away by her work- it all had this great sense of playfulness, but also a real edge to it. The piece I admired most was this “family tree” of commercial food mascots. By extending this idea of Mascots to such an absurdist place, she also forces us to sit in the choices made when creating these characters, such as giving them specific ethnicities. Even now, as we have wrestled with this more publicly, we have rarely paused to ask the why here... and not why in the sense that there could be a good reason (cuz obviously nope), or even in the sense that intention should have any bearing on whether it’s offensive, but just interrogating what is actually being communicated.* 

* Worth also noting the excellent episode + followup by the Sporkful podcast about use of the term “plantation” in food marketing 

http://www.sporkful.com/when-white-people-say-plantation-pt-1/

Fat Brad, Long Prawn, Melbourne, Australia, 2016

Fat Brad the Cookbook

clockwise: Put A Egg On It #4, ed Jenn de la Vega, Brooklyn, NY, 2011 \\ Mouthfeel Issue 4, ed Mac Malikowski, New York, NY 2014 \\ Soy Not Oi, Hippycore Krew, 1990, \\ Gotta Cook, Mother Shanghai, Shanghai, China, 2020 

I could write the next dozen entries on food zines and still have things to include, so I’m picking four that are particularly influential on the project and give a survey of what I could see this being.

1. Put A Egg On It -  Immediately recognizable due to its trademark green paper, Put A Egg On It is a Brooklyn based zine started in 2008. It’s really the first of its kind for independent food magazines, sort of the Yo La Tengo of the foodie set.  I don’t know for a fact that Lucky Peach took inspiration from it, but it’s hard to imagine they didn’t given the two’s similar irreverence. Inspired by classic photocopy music zines of the 90’s, Put A Egg on It recreates that feeling of finding something cool and special that was made for fellow fans.

2. Mouthfeel – One part Butt Magazine, one part Flipside and one part Kinfolk without the religious ties, Mouthfeel looked at the food world through a Gay lens, by focusing on Queer chefs, food personalities and other notable figures. Inspired by the punk and hardcore culture that editor Mac Malikowski grew up around (and inspired by the lack of Queer representation in that culture), Mouthfeel proudly sports a cut and paste punk aesthetic, as channeled through innovative art direction by New York & London studio Mother Design. Sadly I don’t know what the future or even present of Mouthfeel is, their websites gone and their social media is dormant, but that’s also something I love about the zine format- there is something ephemeral about these periodicals- they can so easily disappear leaving only back-issues in their wake- of course, good luck finding a  back issue of Mouthfeel (seriously good luck and please let me know if you do, I could only find the coffee one!!)

3. Soy Not Oi- You never forget your first. A 1990 vegan cookbook by Joel Olson and the “Hippycore Crew,” and distributed independent press stalwarts AK press, this was my introduction to the idea of a food zine, and one of my first zines altogether. Aside from having an excellent name, Soy Not Oi captured the silly spirit of the sort of punk house you could imagine this food being made in, right down to my favorite part: a suggested record to put on while you make each dish.

Lucky Peach Issue One, David Chang, Peter Meehan, Chris Yang. 2011. Magazine. New York, NY

It’s unavoidable- you can’t talk about doing something different with food media without talking about Lucky Peach magazine. David Chen, Chris Yang and Peter Meehan’s twenty-three issues of this food quarterly put a voice to a growing alternative food culture typified by the vulgar irreverence of the late Anthony Bourdain, the unabashed geekiness of Kenji Alt Lopez and the street-level candor of Eddie Huang. Though the tone was decidedly sardonic, the magazine covered issues in food culture that are as relevant now as ever. With articles touching on the effect of Western ethnocentrism in food trends, LGBTQ representation in professional kitchens, and a look at the food of America’s incarcerated population, among many more, Lucky Peach set a standard for self-analysis in the food world during its short run. It didn’t always stick the landing- an issue on gender* that had a “male” and “female” section never quite justified that conceit for instance, but their willingness to try big swings and think outside of the medium is part of what made them so influential.

There is a lot of content about food in the US. At least two major channels, numerous websites and magazines, reality shows, artsy documentaries, countless books – recipe oriented and not, that’s probably all just scratching the surface. For a lot of us, there’s something escapist about food and the world around it, something that can distract from the harsh realities of our current moment facing a global pandemic, a crashing economy, a reckoning with America’s racist past and present, and an upcoming American election that’s already been marked by voter suppression and disinformation campaigns. It’s no surprise that, for those able to live out self-isolation orders comfortably from their homes, that ambitious baking and cooking projects experienced a huge rise in popularity. In a time of near constant strife, food can feel safe in its neutrality.

Except, of course, it’s not neutral at all.  One of the most known food magazines is embroiled in scandal for its poor treatment and unwillingness to foreground non-white staff members, kicking off a less-than-flattering scrutiny of the surrounding food-media landscape as well. Major and beloved brands are just now trying to answer for blatant stereotyping in their packaging and branding. Gender and race-based pay inequalities persist across the industry. Which isn’t to say someone baking some sourdough or picking up some takeout as a respite from the chaos should feel guilty for finding comfort in the food by any means- these two aspects can and do exist simultaneously- but I have a hard time with the Pollyanna tone food media so often adapts while they try and sell you on an $150 electric kettle. There’s got to be a middle ground here.