
My last chapter will focus on the rhetoric of Slow Food’s recipes. At first glance they appear warm and welcoming and, indeed, they are. However, a second look reveals them to be somewhat dichotomous. The ways recipes are written have been discussed by other authors usually portrays them as belletristic nonfiction, able to “[cut] across gender, class, religion, age, education, and background” (Bloom, Consuming Prose, 347). These authors suggest that recipes are one of the few instances of utopia, a genre of text that can unite all people regardless of how they identify themselves. Susan Leonardi in her essay Recipes for Reading notes that recipes act as a literary discourse that reproduces a social context of recipe sharing and embraces communal relations (342).
Leonardi is correct is her idea that a recipe acts as a social context and encouraging social relations. However, Slow Food’s rhetoric is always, even if not stated implicitly, politically charged. Local California farmers from a wide variety of backgrounds write the recipes in the book Come to the Table. Through Slow Food these recipes offer a social connection to the farmer, an intercultural exchange, by recreating the farmer’s recipe in question the cook is assured that they are politically and culturally aware. By looking at a few recipes in particular utilizing Bloom’s and Leonardi’s theories I hope to demonstrate my theories on how Slow Food utilizes the recipe as a tangible means of communicating their rhetoric advocating the Slow Food lifestyle.
In addition to this aspect of recipes, one must realize that the ethos of a recipe relies on abundance, appetite and indulgence according to Bloom (351). If this be the case then this only furthers the argument that the recipes Slow Food prints are divisive; those with no access to education, who are lower class, or in urban areas are unable to participate in the making of these recipes. California Cloverleaf Farms organic cheesecake, roast pig on a spit, and sweet pumpkin leaf soup do not cut across boundaries but rather enforces them, only the select may have positive dialogue with the recipe which undercuts Slow Food’s utopian, all-inclusive rhetoric. I plan to analyze this division and how Slow Food’s rhetoric in the recipe functions to exclude parts of society (intentionally and otherwise) as well as how it embodies some of Bloom’s more hopeful ideas.

Vampire pumpkins and watermelons are a folk legend from the Balkans, in southeastern Europe, described by ethnologist Tatomir Vukanović. The story is associated with the Roma people of the region, from whom much of traditional vampire folklore, among other unusual legends, originated.
This post is short but sweet - just a little something to consider. I'm on Summer Break and before I nose dive into the thesis research that will consume it I am taking a week from any real thinking. Still, while reading the New York Times I came across this little piece about home canning. Apparently it's sweeping the nation. People are once again taking part in what used to be a regular, seasonal tradition of food storage. Every single culinary culture on earth had ways of preserving their food for long periods of time.
I've been going through my grandmother's recipe cards again putzing through and looking for something that screams Old Americana nostalgia like a nifty casserole or a recipe that's so funky and uncool that it's cool again - a horrid jello salad with marshmallows in it would adequately fulfill this want. I think making that would be so deliciously awful and retro it would revert time and space and the dish would become phenomenally awesome, like the clothes I wear that my dad boxed up from 1960-something. Sidecar cocktails and women's magazine chop suey recipes are the bell bottoms and luncheon gloves of Waybackwhen.
Plus I find it interesting to follow the food fads of the time. Curry powder was making a resurgence, indeed curry as the dish itself was huge. In fact there's a whole section dedicated to curry in the recipe catalog such as Hawaiian Turkey with Curry Sauce and Governor Smylie's Lamb Curry (using Smylie's brand prune chutney, of course!). Lots of stuffed mushrooms for all those neighborhood parties. I don;t judge this based solely on the box, but rather than many of these recipes are clipped from magazines and newspapers and glued to note cards.
