Breaking bread and boundaries

Written for : &Publication, Issue 2, Beauty & Borders, Spring 2020

“The pleasure of eating is one we share with animals. The pleasures of the table are known only to the human race.” - Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin

This quote, articulated by one of the founding figures of 19th century gastronomic writing, draws the all-important link between consumption and sociability. While food is primarily a simple necessity fundamental to human life, the nature of how food is consumed, the very architecture of eating, has immeasurable societal value. The gesture and ritual of cooking and sharing ingredients is one of the most basic expressions of generosity, love and care, and when this occasion is shared with others, food becomes more than just fuel but represents a physical manifestation of human exchange and a means of breaking down social borders.

Originating from religious connotations of communion during Christian church services, breaking bread has come to encapsulate a wider social act of sharing a meal. Derived from the Latin com (with or together) and mensa (table), commensality defines the act of sharing food. While there is significant literature on the frequent use of large communal feasts and gatherings for political and religious intent, it is equally important to recognise the value of everyday commensality and the nuances that these environments present. For many people, eating together is closely associated with family, the place we so often constitute our formative experience of communal eating. A shared dining environment plays an essential role in the development of our early identities. Studies examining the nutritional challenges and opportunities during the weaning period and in young childhood, show that a child’s dining environment has a direct impact on their food preferences and eating behaviour. Participation in communal eating teaches manners, traditions, and the ability to contribute to conversation, helping us to understand our place within the unit. In turn, this shapes well-being in later life: high levels of dinner-time interaction have numerous positive social and health benefits, such as reduced chances of obesity.

In the mid-nineties, British social anthropologist Richard Jenkins observed the dining habits of people in Denmark and found that the social aspect of eating was often more important than the food itself. The ‘stemning’ (atmosphere) is intrinsic to the whole experience; lighting candles, buying flowers and set- ting favourite plates on the table are all highly valued elements. This atmospheric setting how- ever, is not exclusively reserved for entertaining guests. Though now an over-used buzzword endlessly featured in articles on modern well-being, this concept of ‘hygge’ is a cherished part of the everyday. As my mother’s family is Danish, I have first-hand experience of how this manifests. One spring, our American friends came to visit my grandparent’s home in Humlebæk, a small harbour town north of Copenhagen. For the Danes, spring is always special as it welcomes the arrival of the small fjord shrimps, wonderful pink shellfish that are cooked in a salty broth—the number one seasonal delicacy. Ten years on, these American friends still chuckle as they re- member how they sat at this table for hours on end, drinking Danish schnapps and pilsners, only to eventually realise they had only managed to eat around six shrimps. The true experience of sharing fjord shrimps in spring lies in the novelty and difficulty of peeling these tiny things, and, in the time it takes to de-shell enough to feel full, the conversation and atmosphere of the table is what you’ve really been feasting on. Sharing food in this way generates an emotional awareness of - and involvement in - the ritual of eating. It’s not eating to survive, but eating to belong.

By contrast, statistics from a YouGov survey in 2017 found that over a third of children in the UK eat their evening meal in front of the TV, highlighting a significant absence of shared dining environments and the social and health benefits they are tied to. Advances in technology continue to change our relationship with food and eating and over-used distractions such as phones and laptops are equally detrimental to how we experience food, particularly in a social context. However, this shift is perhaps based on an outdated notion of sharing. A family of four sitting tucked into a table definitely isn’t the only form of commensality, and it is important to recognise that today, eating together goes beyond those who we call family and friends. As Danish professor Morten Warmind notes “to eat in the company of others is a strong expression of trust and together- ness of a much higher order than just being together”.

Though togetherness is widely associated with our nearest and dearest, the trust in dining with those we don’t yet know, some- times total strangers, can help to develop new forms of kinship. Systems to facilitate these gatherings are slowly growing, evident in the rise of supper clubs, and the increase in communal tables in restaurants, which provide close proximity for friendly elbow knocking, inspiration from the smell of a neighbour’s food, and encouraging eavesdropping for a mutual topic of conversation. However, to create something more sustainable, and something that people will take part in time and time again, it is vital that programmed events supplement these communal tables as an invitation to be a part of a new dining community. This is particularly important in larger metropolises where people are more likely to live alone.

In response to my desire to nurture commensality amongst strangers I founded Plate, a project which uses the social role of communal dining as a tool for breaking boundaries and initiating new conversations. It seeks to use the sharing of food as a medium to facilitate an accessible discussion platform for interesting topics, binding various social circles together in a nurturing space, and generating conversations and thoughts that would not have been triggered otherwise. The first Plate event invited Seetal Solanki, the founder of a materials research consultancy Ma-tt-er, to join a group of design students from Kingston University for dinner. The table environment provided a level playing field, facilitating a new kind of conversation that is rarely found in the hierarchy between industry and students.

To develop the programme, the next Plate evening was held on a much larger scale at Old Spitalfields Market as part of London Design Festival in 2017. At a time where the market was still developing, the event sought to explore how market spaces are adapting to stay relevant for both old and new audiences. I chose to explore the role of food in this environment, and partnered up with an existing food stall in the market; Turkish Wrap House (now called Nilly’s Turkish Kitchen), in an attempt to learn about the history of their business, and to research how the format of their market stall could apply to a dining table experience. After moving to London and spotting a gap in the market for traditional Turkish food, head chef Nilufer Yanar started the food stall two years ago with her family. From five in the morning, she prepares the fresh ingredients by hand, and cooks the lovingly crafted recipes, passed down by her mother. From local East London studio creatives, to suited business-people careful to avoid the garlic sauce, the queue never ends, and customers’ inter- action with the stall has become part of their everyday. To further this social interaction, we curated a collaborative meal event for Plate called ‘Wrap, Eat, Talk’ where 80 participants were taught by Nilufer how to make a wrap. This element of involvement in the preparation and dining process enabled guests to feel part of an intimate ritual that originally stems from family dinners. The slightly awkward and messy stag- es of building the wrap encouraged a starting point for conversation between these strangers gathered around the table - initial discomfort aside, it was most importantly a shared experience.

These events are purposefully not one-off evenings, each one leads onto the next with the aim of building a network for those who have attended. This is documented visually at each event, with illustrators invited to draw the evening onto ceramic plates which will be used by each new group and eventually form an archive of the experience. As our concept of the word ‘sharing’ evolves, food continues to have the potential to unite us in both traditional and forward-thinking contexts. Through curating experiences that draw people out from behind their TV dinners, and encouraging commensal dining behaviour within wider social circles, perhaps we can build new social ecosystems and reform our concept of what it means to break bread at the table.

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*Illustrations by Charlotte Ager