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.
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.
The informant is a member of an outdoors club on campus that has a tradition of doing “Peace and Chow” after every dinner they eat on trail. The informant says “Peach and Chow consists of the two guides of the trip organizing us into a circle. Then we grab hands, right over left to create a criss-cross effect. Once we’re are all connected anyone who is grateful for anything from the day sticks their foot into the middle of the circle. Then they say what they are thankful for. If anyone else in the circle agrees, they all wiggle back and forth. This continues until we’re done saying things we’re thankful for. Then someone in the group recites a quote, probably about nature. After the quote we pass the pulse, which starts from one of the guides squeezing the hand next to them and the squeeze makes it all around the circle. Once the circle is complete we unwind and it’s done”.
Background:
The club has existed on USC’s campus since 2008. Peace and Chow originated with the start of the club but no one knows the direct origin, who started it and why. On each trip there are always two guides and 8-10 participants. The guides are in charge of leading Peace and Chow and it is not required but heavily suggested they do it every trip.
Context:
The ritual of Peace and Chow happens after a meal, most likely dinner, when the group is out in the wilderness either at their campsite or in the backcountry. The informant described this as a ritual that held a lot of importance to them.
Thoughts:
Food is common to surround with certain rituals. In terms of Christianity it is common to pray before every meal. Peace and Chow acts as sort of a “prayer” of thankfulness for these students on their outdoor adventures. It is also common in outdoor communities to try and feel in touch with one’s surroundings. This ritual helps the group remain in touch with each other and the land around them as they are able to grow closer as a group. This ritual creates a sense of community for people that were recently strangers. Food tends to have a way of bringing people together and this tradition adds to that feeling.
This is a transcription of the informant’s New Year’s Day tradition.
“Every New Year’s Day we always go over to my brother’s house with all the extended family, cousins, aunts, uncles, everyone. He is a really good cook and makes a giant roast pork and sauerkraut meal that we have been doing since we were little. Then New Year’s Day was my mom’s birthday so we’d cut her the first piece and then she’d put a candle in it for her birthday. It was like a fake little pre-birthday celebration with the whole family. She passed away many years ago but we still light the candle and do the whole thing but instead of a birthday wish it’s a wish for the new year for everyone. It’s sweet I think.”
Background:
The informant is from a large German-American family.
Context:
The informant described this to me when I inquired about her family’s traditions around the holidays.
Thoughts:
Pork and Sauerkraut is a very common New Year’s food, especially for those of German heritage. The combination of a birthday wish and luck for the new year appears to go hand in hand. There are certain theories as to why pork is associated with luck for the new year, “In Europe hundreds of years ago, wild boars were caught in the forests and killed on the first day of the year. Also, a pig uses its snout to dig in the ground in the forward direction” (Sherrow 28). The symbolism of a pig digging forward is meant to represent forward movement for those that eat the pig in the coming year. The luck of pork and a birthday wish create a hopeful start to the year for this family
Sherrow, Victoria. “EAT FOR LUCK!” Child Life, vol. 86, no. 1, Jan, 2007, pp. 28-29. ProQuest, http://libproxy.usc.edu/login?url=https://search-proquest-com.libproxy2.usc.edu/docview/216762697?accountid=14749.
