While perusing the blogs on NYTimes.com Monday morning, I came across a guest entry on Well, a blog about health and wellness, which stopped my mouse dead in its cyber tracks. I saw the headline "Michael Pollan Wants Your Food Rules" and stared at my computer in disbelief. Michael Pollan, the creator of the "Eat food, not too much, mostly plants" mantra wants to know what I think about food? Michael Pollan, this semester's speaker at the Snyder Lecture, wants my food rules? Michael Pollan, who changed the way that Americans think and write about food, wants me to influence the way that he thinks about eating? In a word: ohmygod.
Pollan, the author of "The Omnivore's Dilemma" (2006) and "In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto" (2008) — both of which sit comfortably on my bookshelf next to my Anthony Bourdain selections — asks his readers to answer the following questions: "Will you send me a food rule you try to live by? Something perhaps passed down by your parents or grandparents? Or something you've come up with to tell your children — or yourself?"
Apparently, people are as excited about sharing food advice with Pollan as I am, because within 24 hours of the initial post, there were already over 1,300 responses, and the number is steadily increasing. Some of my favorite posts are "Never eat sushi from a convenience store," "You can always count on a BYOB restaurant that has survived for at least a couple of years to have excellent food" and "Eat a food in inverse proportion to how much its lobby spends to push it" (ahem: high fructose corn syrup). The food advice ranges from short and sweet mottos like these to paragraph-long explanations about people's views on food.
Once I got over my star-struck state, I knew I could answer Michael Pollan's appeal and sum up my family's feelings on food in two words: food genes.
I don't remember how or when my mom and I came up with this phrase, but whenever we use it, we always know exactly what the other person means. Food genes actually have nothing to do with your genes or anything biological. It's more about whether or not a person has an innate sense for good food or a passion for all things culinary. You can be born with good food genes, you can discover that you have them at any point in your life or, unfortunately, your good food genes can never develop. The concept is best explained by a few examples.
Let's say you are driving and you pass a restaurant that you've been to before and thought was absolutely terrible. Your friends and family have been there and they also agree that the food isn't good, but somehow the place is still in business. You can chalk it up to collective bad food genes.
Maybe you have friends that have gone through life making pretty mundane food choices, and you've always tried to convince them to be more adventurous. They finally agree to go to one of your favorite exotic or quirky restaurants and you get them to try something new. When they take the first bite, you see their eyes light up and they devour the dish. It's just clicked: They've discovered their good food genes.
I have a family friend who has the best food genes I've ever seen. Whenever he gets his hands on good food, you can feel his excitement. The guy is an eating machine — I've seen him eat a dozen crabs in the time it takes me to get through two — but it stems from his love of great cuisine. He's open to all food experiences and appreciates good dishes and quality ingredients; he has good food genes.
Michael Pollan, the best food advice that I can give you is: Tap into your good food genes and let them lead the way.
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Caryn Horowitz is a junior majoring in history. She can be reached at Caryn.Horowitz@tufts.edu.
