Ab Ovo #30: Food Writing that Meets the Moment
An endorsement of informed food journalism.
Note from management: A blitz of travel, assorted work projects, family obligations, and the like has rendered the past few weeks a bit chaotic here at Ab Ovo HQ, so I hope you’ll bear with me while I catch up on newsletter production. We’ll be back to our regular programming shortly, but while I play catch-up I’d like to briefly use this space to promote some recommended reading (plus a few wines worth stashing in your cooler). Enjoy, and I’ll see you back here next week.
Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been making my way through Lizzie Collingham’s The Taste of Empire: How Britain’s Quest for Food Shaped the Modern World, which is more or less exactly what it sounds like. Over a few hundred pages spanning nearly five centuries of history, Collingham examines the role various food systems played as both a catalyst for, and enabler of, British imperialism from the 16th century onward. Readers familiar with Mark Kurlansky’s Cod — another great historical read — already know the story of the North Atlantic fish that, thanks to its lengthy shelf life when dried and/or salted, made long-distance seafaring more manageable and enabled the rise of the trans-Atlantic economy. Collingham follows this and various other threads using a somewhat wider historical lens, tracing the connections between various foodstuffs and beverages encountered (and routinely coopted) by an expanding global empire.
We know how this story unfolds, of course, and I don’t need to spell out here all the ways in which European colonialism proved a humanitarian catastrophe (and that feels like understatement) for huge swathes of the world's population. We grapple with that legacy today, and Collingham doesn’t spare readers these unsavory aspects. Her narrative unfolds unevenly as history usually does, oscillating between triumphs of human ingenuity — canning was a pretty good idea, for instance, as was rum — and various nadirs of human cruelty. But she drives home the central point that our need to feed ourselves has shaped our world, and continues to shape our world, in ways we don’t necessarily recognize in the moment.
Food systems are fascinating in this way, and their history is our history. I don’t say this to gloss over the string of unmitigated human disasters unleashed by European colonialism, I’m simply stating that human history — the good, the bad, and the unequivocally evil — is inextricably tangled up in the history of food. Collingham’s book — the narrative thread of which runs right up to the present day — serves as a reminder that we often compartmentalize events that occurred not even so long ago as “the past” without fully acknowledging that this history is still being written, right now, at this very moment.
Example: A headline running in The Guardian just last week reads “UN warns of ‘looming hunger catastrophe’ due to Russian blockade.” I’m having a hard time thinking of a news story more current or impactful than one asserting that, at this very moment, “50 million people in 45 countries are now just one step from famine.” We tend to forget the Arab Spring of 2011-2012 was set in motion by a distressed fruit vendor, or that spiking food prices served as a primary catalyst for the unrest that evolved into Syria’s ongoing civil war. I’m not trying to be overly dramatic here, I’m just underscoring that food systems still drive global events, and in fact are driving them as you read this.
With a litany of military, climate, debt, and economic crises flaring up across the globe, you’d think we’d be awash in quality food journalism — not the type that serves up starred restaurant reviews and bad takes on this summer’s “it” cocktail, but impactful, reported journalism concerning how we produce and secure our sustenance. There’s a lot of information swirling around out there in the ether, but not necessarily a lot of context. And context is, of course, the whole ballgame.
Some of the more thoughtful and informed writing I’ve seen on this topic lately has come to my inbox via Thin Ink, a newsletter published by journalist Thin Lei Win. I don’t know this writer personally, and I don’t benefit in any way from mentioning her work here. I’ve just genuinely benefitted from her writing of late, especially since the recent unfortunate demise of the nonprofit newsroom The Counter left a hole in my food systems news diet. It’s made me smarter, which is more than I can say for the vast majority of the stuff that lands in my inbox. And it’s encouraging to know that someone out there is looking past all the dubious hot takes and instead asking important questions.
So, since I couldn’t be bothered to produce anything original for you this week, I'm using my modest platform to point you toward Thin Ink (as well as the aforementioned books, if history’s your thing). I find it a solid check on all the headline hysteria out there, and worth subscribing to if you’re even mildly interested in how food systems shape our world, not just historically but in realtime.
Ab Ovo is a (somewhat) weekly newsletter produced by Clay Dillow (CD) and friends. If you enjoy our work, we’d love to have you as a subscriber (it’s free!). If you already subscribe, we appreciate the support — and don’t forget to forward this to a friend. Thanks for reading.
What Else We’re Reading
You may not agree with Dave Infante’s meditation on Budweiser’s annual American flag-themed summer rebrand, but if you read to the end you’ll realize that’s kinda the point.
Blue Hill at Stone Barns has long told an idyllic story about waste-free, farm-to-table, sustainable fine dining. Eater’s long read on the storied farm/restaurant tells a different story entirely.
What We’re Drinking: Wine, in three contexts
We’re well past the summer solstice and deep into the most languid days of pool season, and I haven’t yet written a single thing here about gastronomic summer whites or beach-ready dry rosés. Below, I’m righting that wrong, listing just a few of the bottles we’ve poured around Ab Ovo HQ lately as well as the ideal context in which to enjoy them.
Tormaresca ‘Calfuria’ Rosato 2021
When/Where: Mid-afternoon, next to a partially-shaded pool, wearing plenty of sun protection.
Why: This wine hails from Puglia in the heel of the Italian boot, where the locals know a thing or two about beating the summer heat. It’s chock full of fruit — peach, apricot, strawberry, raspberry, pomegranate — but still plenty dry. You can enjoy this wine all afternoon without exhausting your palate (or your pocketbook). [$13]
Chêne Bleu ‘Le Rosé’ 2019
When/Where: Late evening, on a breezy seaside patio where everyone is beautiful and inexplicably dressed in whites and neutrals, with a few of your closest people.
Why: When the hors d’oeuvres hit the table, you’ll know. Some rosés — most rosés, tbh — are designed for immediate consumption. But when they’re built with a little body, they not only drink well next to all kinds of foods but can also spend a few years on the shelf without losing a step. This Grenache-dominant blend from Vaucluse in southeastern France impresses us year after year (after year), reminding us that “complexity” and “rosé” don’t have to be mutually exclusive. [$35]
Abadia Retuerta ‘Le Domiane’ Blanco de Guarda 2019
When/Where: At dinner, as food hits the table, with friends who appreciate a serious white wine.
Why: When it’s hot outside, we tend to default to wine that’s fruity and light and mindless — wines we don’t have to think about. And that’s perfectly fine. Often when you’re drinking socially, you don’t want to think too much about what’s in your glass. This one’s for those other times, when you want something with body and layers, wherein grilled tropical fruits, fresh cut grass, flinty smoke, and tightly integrated oak unspool in waves across your palate. You could age this 70/30 blend of Sauvignon Blanc/Verdejo for several years if you really wanted to. But I can tell you right now, if I come across another bottle of this vintage tomorrow, I’m opening it at the very next opportunity. [$45]
What’s Else?
There’s no lack of news on the “world is on fire” beat: Ten days of hail damaged 30,000 hectares of vines across France • Drought emergency declared in Northern Italy • Extreme heatwaves threaten French vineyards • Authorities curtail water rights in Russian River Valley … as well as in Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers’ watersheds • Climate change is altering the chemistry of wine • Will climate change help hybrid grapes take root in the U.S. wine industry?
Elsewhere: Stauning will release a special bottling commemorating ‘whisky peace’ • Mexico City’s street vendor art is disappearing • Clay Risen on working the whiskey beat • Ninety miles north of Atlanta, wine country is thriving • Beer made from recycled toilet water is winning over fans in sustainability-minded Singapore • You’re not crazy, wine pours at restaurants are shrinking • Kylie Minogue is quite simply crushing it • A new direct Paris-to-Berlin train will launch in 2023 • And an old favorite: Food and wine pairing is junk science.