This morning I delved into a new book: Engaging Art: The Next Great Transformation of America's Cultural Life, edited by Steven Tepper and Bill Ivey. (For anyone interested in the arts as cultural participation I highly recommend it...so far) Reading the introductory notes on the history and redefinition of cultural participation raised an intriguing and persistent question in my head: how do the 'culinary arts' fit into this sociological investigation?
I place the term 'culinary arts' in quotations for a reason, as there is debate about whether the practice of cooking is an art or a trade. For the sake of this discussion, I argue that it is an art. Not in the normal sense of the 'fine arts,' but in the more historical sense of an activity that fosters creativity. This definition of cooking as art, however, comes after much consideration of the article. In his introduction, Ivey argues that the historical definition of cultural participation has changed from individual and amateur creativity to inactive consumption. He illustrates this point with a great, and disturbing example, of piano sales. Piano sales in the US peaked in 1909 at 347,589, because at the turn of the centruy the piano was the 'cultural hearth' of the family. As Ivey notes, ' Amateurism was a virtue, and the time and effort entailed in learning how to draw, as with playing the piano, enhanced its desirability.' The decline in piano sales serves as an elegant microcosm of a shifting understanding of the arts. The active (if amatuer) involvement in the arts has fallen, as this century has witnessed the rise of the radio, the film, the telvision, the internet, etc. Ivey argues that this rise in technology has fuelled a redefinition of participation from 'to take part in' into 'to have a part or share in something.' That is, from the active to the passive.
I believe it was Michael Ruhlman, in The Soul of a Chef, who argued that cooking is not an art, but a trade. The context of this definition is important, as Rulhman was discussing chefs and the restaurant business. I think, however, that the realm of the everyday kitchen has become a source for the same kind of creativity once fostered by the family piano. The culinary creativity stems from curiosity and experimentation and also from access (or lack thereof) to ingredients. With technological advances and globalization, we now have access to myriad ingredients leading to a explosion of creativity not only in the restaurants, but in the amateur kitchen. Led by the Barefoot Contessa, Molto Mario and all those other larger than life TV personalities, those who once considered TV dinners delivered by the Schwan man are encoraged to reach for the a chopping board, knife and cook for themselves. Cooking also fosters a sense of community; The best, and most obvious, example of this being immigrants to the US and their use of food to create a secondary homeland and pass down tradition. Across all cultures, meals are a time of togetherness, when you relax from the day and share it with others.
Sadly, parallel to this rise in domestic innovation has been the cult of convenience and alienation. Just as it is more convenient to attend the theatre, than participate in theatre, it is more convenient to dine out than to cook in. There are those who, while they may not feast on the mediocrity of ready meals, spend their evenings in various restaurants enjoying the meals, but taking little away than perhaps a doggy bag.
The practice of dining out and domestic creativity need not be unconnected. While I wholeheartedly agree that dining out is not only enjoyable, but culturally stimulating, I see it as inspiration for future adventures - rather than an escape from a chore. Some of my favorite meals I cook, came from ideas in restaurants. There was the lime/soy/ginger dressing I had in NW Portland with Erin, or the sweet potato fries from Matisse with Phil, Siris and Gabriel every Monday in Chicago. Using the experiences from dining out, I weave memories into the dishes I cook in the kitchen. Even though my friends may be thousands of miles away, they are there with me everytime I pick up a clove of garlic or a bunch of basil.
In this way, I believe, in the sense discussed by Ivey and others, that cooking is very much an art. It stimulates the mind, fosters creativity and, most importantly, brings communities together. Like other arts, its amateur livelihood is under threat by the aforementioned redefinition of participation, but I think it has a bright future. Now if only theatre, art, dance and music could find their ways back into our hearts and minds as much.
* I apologize if this post is discombobulated. It was written over a period of a few days and without any editing (well, beyond spell check to prevent me from looking like a complete moron). I do hope to distill these ideas into a more coherent piece, so any and all comments are much appreciated.
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