MV is a 2nd generation Mexican-American
from New Mexico. Half of her family is of Japanese-Mexican descent and much of
her extended family lives in Mexico. I received this story from her in a video
conference call from our respective homes. Her aunt taught her this and said
it’s a Venezuelan tradition.
Text:
MV: You’re supposed to eat thirteen grapes in the last
ten seconds of the new year. And if you do it, then that’s good luck. Also if
you wear red underwear.
JS: Why grapes?
MV: I don’t know, that one’s just a weird challenge.
Thoughts:
Ritual transitional ceremonies such as new year
celebrations often involve superstition and folk belief, as ways of marking a
transition from one period to another. In other iterations of this practice,
you eat twelve grapes, one for each month of the year. The element of skill and
difficulty make this tradition a fun and competitive ritual. The tradition can
be traced back to Spain, where the bourgeoise adopted it from the French, who ate
grapes and drank champagne on the new year. The tradition was picked up by
members of other classes who ate the grapes likely to make fun of the upper
class. The fact that one is scarfing these grapes at a high speed can be seen
as a mocking gesture towards the elite, who would daintily eat the grapes with
their champagne, a way to mimic and critique the ways in which they cover up
their pernicious and consumptive practices of economic exploitation with a mask
of civility and decadence.
As for the red underwear, red symbolizes lust, luck,
and life in many cultures. Being a Spanish tradition, the use of red resonates
with the colors of the nation. The choice of garment suggests sexual overtones
in this bit of folk superstition, with the new year as a time for new
beginnings, creation, and sexual proliferation. The belief also, for the
duration of the new years celebration, allows undergarments to be a topic of
conversation, allowing for a less sexually repressed and euphemistic
celebration, with the topic coming up more apparently to the surface.
NS, my father, is a 55-year-old Dutch immigrant to the US. He grew up in the small town of Delft. He told me about this new year’s eve food tradition that is observed where he grew up.
Text:
NS: New years is one of the most important holidays
for the Dutch. On new years’ eve, we would gather together, there would be on
the TV a comedian doing a run-down of the year, and we would have oliebollen
(oil balls). They are a food you only eat during new years and you can get them
from a stand on the street in late December. My mom used to make them. To make
them, you put some flour and yeast together in a bowl with some sugar to let
the mixture rise. Then you add all kinds of stuff in it: nuts, apple, raisins,
cranberries, other dried fruits. You plop them into balls and fry them in oil.
Then once you’re done you can put some powdered sugar on them.
Thoughts:
The informant, even though he now lives in San Francisco, makes this treat every year as a member of a global nationality. He likes oliebollen because he associates the taste with childhood memories and festivities. He told me that the new year is one of the most important and elaborate celebrations for the Dutch, so it makes sense that he wants to keep this foodway alive as he carries out his identity as a Dutch-American. I have eaten them every new year as well, the informant is my dad, and I have to say that the taste definitely reminds me of that particular time. Since they are only consumed once a year for this event, they take on a special significance and anticipation which leads me to savor each bite when I get the chance. The food tradition is a way for my dad to keep his sense of Dutch-ness alive as he lives abroad in a foreign land.
I collected this bit of wordplay from my mother (LP)
in a face-to-face interview. She grew up in a white Unitarian household in
suburban Colorado in the late 20th century. She learned this joke
from her mother, who pulled the prank on her and her brother when they were
young.
Text:
The prankster says to their victim:
“Say:
‘owa tagu saiam’”
After repeating it, the prankster asks them to say it
faster until it sounds like they’re saying “o what a goose I am.”
Thoughts:
I remember other silly word pranks like this from my childhood, where one person employs a riddle or a pun to get another person to say something self-deprecating or otherwise humorous. The appeal of the joke comes from the moment of recognition when a string of nonsensical sounds becomes language. These games, while seemingly inconsequential and banal, offer a profound look into the mechanisms of signification. The humor of the joke comes from the moment of recognition in which a string of nonsensical sounds becomes meaningful, takes on significance. What was thought to be nonsense becomes sense, becomes a signifier of something completely unexpected.
The prank points to a couple of interesting traits of spoken language. One, that sounds bear no intrinsic relation to their significances: a string of gibberish to one person in one particular subject position (the victim when speaking the phrase slowly) can hold meaning to those occupying other subject positions (the prankster and the victim after the moment of recognition.) Secondly, it reminds the participants that all words are first and foremost just sound. Sounds are assembled and juxtaposed to signify abstract notions, and this process of signification can get so entrenched, so internalized that the signified takes precedence over the signifier, and the language-bearer is “tricked” into equating the two. This prank shatters that implicit assumption by pointing to the sonorous qualities of the word and laying bare the process by which sounds are tied to meanings. This disenchantment with the word, the recognition of the materiality of the signifier, has radical implications. For one, it allows for a kind of verbal play, a refiguration of sounds and their meanings, a liberation from the logocentric notion that words contain no ambiguity, no internal contradiction, that individual words always mean the same thing, like in a dictionary. But dictionaries are produced and disseminated by publishing companies that operate under certain ideological agendas which are always political, which have in their interest the imposition of hegemony.
Such pranks as these can act as subversive and counter-hegemonic, calling into question the ways in which meaning is constructed through language, opening up the potential for resistance through wordplay.
Pannenkoeken (pun-nĕ-koo-ken) are a traditional Dutch meal. They are large and flat pancakes with the thinness of crepes. In my family, we enjoy them for dinner on special occasions such as birthdays and holidays. I collected this piece from my father, who emigrated to the US from the Netherlands as an adult and grew up in the town of Delft. I asked him to show me how to make the recipe one night at our home in San Francisco.
Text:
NS: “Alright first you start by putting on some
vegetable soup, I do some bouillon cubes and whatever vegetables you have lying
around. Then you start the pannenkoeken by putting flour in a big bowl.
JS: “how much flour do you use?”
NS: “Just some flower, as much as you want. (laughs)
and some salt. mix it up a bit to get rid of the clumps… there, perfect! Then
crack an egg into it and mix it up, add two eggs or so mixing in between.”
JS: (I add three eggs absentmindedly)
NS: “Haha, perfect, you want to get it nicely mixed…
then add some milk gradually. You want to mix it all the while so that it stays
smooth.”
(I mix vigorously, adding milk little by little until
we have a soupy batter)
NS: “Then we heat up the pan. You want to move the
bowl over here near the stove. Rub butter around in the pan and then pour in a
spoonful of the batter, and you want to start moving the pan to spread the
batter almost as soon as you start pouring.”
(I pour in the batter. the pan is not hot enough, so
the batter just sits at the bottom.)
NS: “Ok yeah we tried a little too soon. Just wait
until the pan heats up a bit.”
He puts a plate on top of the simmering pot of soup
and explains that this is where we will put the finished pannenkoeken to stay
hot. I pour more batter once the pan is hotter and then tilt the pan back and
forth to spread the runny batter all the way around the pan. This takes some
practice, but I eventually work out a way to make nice, even, golden brown
pannenkoeken and set them on the plate. My dad shows me how to fill the last
few with Gouda cheese and fold them over on top of each other. I heft the pot
of soup along with the full plate on top and set it on the dinner table. We eat
the soup first and then start on the cheese pancakes, topping them with cumin
and nutmeg. They are rich and creamy. We then set ourselves upon the “sweet”
pancakes underneath, topping them with maple syrup, brown sugar, walnut pieces,
and cinnamon. In the past, we have used berries and Nutella as well. I ask my
dad where he learned this recipe and what it means for him.
NS: “My mom used to make them for the family, it was
always an exciting treat for the kids. I like them, sometimes I just get the
craving.”
JS: “Are there any differences between the way you
make them and the way your mom used to make them?”
NS: “No not really. The soup is essentially the same and the batter too. The one thing I changed was folding them over onto the cheese, putting it in the middle. I think my mom put the cheese on top. That was my contribution to the tradition. (laughs)”
Thoughts:
Eating pannenkoeken is one of the cherished traditions in my household. It is one of the few Dutch recipes that we continue to perform. A recently naturalized US citizen, this piece of folklore helps my dad to remember his family from the country from which he emigrated, many of whom have since passed away and some of whom he keeps in touch with long-distance. The environment in which he grew up, the small town of Delft, is radically different from the American city of San Francisco, and I think traditions like these help him to maintain his sense of identity as an expatriate. For me, who grew up in San Francisco, this tradition gives me a sense of my dad’s history as well as my own Dutch heritage, a means of holding on to what makes one special in a country of immigrants from all over the world. The task of making the pannenkoeken requires some practice, and while the recipe is simple and often approximated, one must have a feeling for how the batter flows, what temperature the pan should be, how to store the finished cakes so that they stay hot, when to add butter, and how much batter to add per pannekoek. The process is like an elaborate choreography in the kitchen so it feels much more special to make them well since doing so requires practice and instruction. The differences between my dad’s and his mother’s pannenkoeken are dependent on the available ingredients: my dad might make the soup differently, and my grandmother might have used different kinds of cheese and, as my dad mentions, a different technique for making the cheese pancakes The cheese we use at home is imported from Holland.
Food has an intimate relation with memory and identity. What we consume is what we are made up of, and tastes can connect us intimately to a community and way of life. Making pennenkoeken is one way my father retains his identity as a Dutch-American immigrant, and a way in which he transmits this identity to his American-raised children, passing down a memory of warm family dinners.
I received this tradition and superstition from my
mother, who grew up in a white suburban household in Colorado during the late
20th century. She learned it from her father, an English professor,
who read it in a student paper about superstitions. When I was younger, she
used to practice this little act of magic, but she does not do it anymore.
Text:
If the first words you say in the month are “rabbit,
rabbit, rabbit,” you will have good luck for the whole month.
Thoughts:
Rabbits symbolize good luck in various cultures. I have seen rabbit foot keychains, which are intended to endow their owners with good luck. The word comes in threes, another example of the primacy of the number three in American folk belief. This piece of folklore was transmitted through the written word and stuck in my own family. To attach a special incantation to the beginning of each month gives the start of the month some special significance. It helps to mark off the months as distinct from one another, each as an opportunity for a new beginning, a renewal of luck. Rabbits are also associated with procreation and fertility, so their evocation at the beginning of each monthly cycle could signify renewal, new birth, and fecundity. This incantation is a way to be ‘reborn’ each month, as if to say: “no matter how difficult or painful last month was for me, here’s a chance to start one anew.” This little act of superstition can help people to maintain their faith in the future and retain a spirit of hope and growth going into each new month.
