The semester is almost over. Last week I had 3 papers, including a long research paper. This past weekend I participated in a 12 hour Relay for Life to battle cancer. I have 5 days of class remaining before exams. Am I stressed? Maybe just a tad.
To take a tiny break, I went home for the night on Friday. My Dad asked what I would like for dinner and the only thing I could think about- was bratwurst. Now, let me explain. The weather was beautiful, I had left school and had no immediate academic demands, at least for the
moment. The weather, the beautiful environment, and the completely relaxed atmosphere seemed to signal just one thing: summer.And with the advent of summer also comes a specific menu. No more meatloaf, heavy pasta dishes, soups and hot chocolate. Now is the time for ice-cold lemonade, fresh fruit and berries, herbs and veggies fresh from the garden, barbecues, and ice cream. So really, there was nothing better to have than a fresh-off-the-grill Bratwurst.
For me, grilling anything outdoors is indicative of summer, of backyard barbeques and neighborhood b
lock parties. But one of my favorite associations is with the ballpark. Nothing says summer to me more than sitting in the stands with a cold lemonade, a pack of peanuts or cracker jacks and a hot dog with the sounds of the bat hitting the baseball and “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” echoing in the back of my mind. This could only be improved by substituting the hot dog with a bratwurst or corn dog. I know that they can sometimes give off a bad impression. But where else are breaded and fried hot dogs on sticks so readily available, so accepted, and so tasty than at the ballpark?Excuse any following generalizations, but this is America. This is where we get hot dogs and hamburgers, barbecue, fried chicken, corn on the cob, and apple pie.
Along with historical monuments and natural landmarks, America is also easily identified by cuisine. We all come from different places, bringing with us different appreciations, expectations, tastes and flavors. Even among these differences have come standards at the American table. If not as a particular dish, then perhaps associated with a national festivity or attitude. Take my previous example. I don’t think sausages, bratwurst or any other kind, can be typified into food of Americana. But sitting on the back porch or in the ballpark, munching on these foods certainly feels American to me. Maybe it’s just the game. Or maybe it’s the comfort aspect.
Comfort food, in the shape of cereal or ice cream late at night, spaghetti and meatballs in the cold winter, or hot dogs on a hot summer day, makes us feel good. And this is exactly how I felt on Friday night, with a full plate, nice weather, and the comforts of home on an almost-summer’s eve. These foods reassure us, reaffirming who we are, where we are, how we are, and what we love.
Isn’t it funny how food can create such strong associations to memory, identity and emotions? I’ve already mentioned the food that can create an American identity (at least in the kitchen). Then there is also the comfort food- and oh, how that food connects us to emotions! Why else would mashed potatoes make us so happy, cheese make us so ecstatic, and cereal late at night so content. I may just be speaking for myself here, but I am certain that everybody has a food that can alter his or her attitude and emotions in a matter of seconds. It is one positive in how easily we humans can be swayed. And as for associations to memory, I’ve heard that smell is the sense that ties most closely to memory. I won’t disagree, but rather argue that taste also ties significantly to memory. Now, scent probably plays a big part in this. But, even to this day, if I have the right kind of popsicle, I am taken back to a summer’s night 10 years ago, playing Ghost in the Graveyard with the neighbors. Sometimes at the dinning hall, with a bite of scrambled eggs I am taken back to the dining hall at camp. The food wasn’t very good, but the memory is strong- good friends, good times. Perhaps this is also the reason that I so crave a giant Sloppy Joe (the king of all camp foods) on occasion- to remind me of those times.
Food is strong. It creates an identity and ties us to it. It connects us to who we are, who we were, where we are and were, how we feel and felt. There is a power in food, not just to feed, satisfy and sustain, but also to define and connect.
Check out one of my friend's blog, all about baseball-- The International Pastime
Check out what MSNBC has to say about the 10 Foods That Make America Great"
*stay tuned to this post for updated photos in the next few days*
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