Some time ago while traveling in the U.S., I stopped in a mid-sized
Wisconsin town to grab a coffee and a bite to eat at a local coffee
shop. Being vegan, I asked the server for a bagel with margarine and
fresh vegetables, and a coffee with soy milk on the side. The server
looked at me blankly and asked me to repeat the request.
"Could I have some soy milk for my coffee," I repeated.
"I'm sorry, I've just never heard of such a request before," she said. "What's it like, soy milk in coffee?"
I told her that I quite liked it, but that some people, unused to
the taste of soy, find the taste a little beany at first. She told me
that she doesn't like trying new things, and that, in fact, she never
eats anything she doesn't already know. How strange and boring, I
thought, to spend your whole adult life eating only foods to which you
had been introduced as a child.
I can't imagine spending my adult life within the narrow culinary
confines of my childhood diet. There are so many wonderful things to
try, so many ways in which to expand the palate, so many culinary
traditions to discover, embrace and adapt. But I suppose, with food as
with ideas and culture, many people find it frightening to wander
outside the known. Yet food is often the most palatable aspect of
culture, if you'll excuse the pun.
Anyway, for a few months now, working in a fairly small and quite
homogeneous office environment, I've noticed people regard my eclectic
lunches with considerable interest. Some have enjoyed sampling various
vegan foods I've brought in--homemade spicy guacamole, hearty vegan
potato salad, channa masala, aloo gobi, potato curry, Thai basil curry,
hearty vegan chili, hummus, vegan adaptations of Mexican and Mennonite
soups and stews, vegetable stir-fries, tofu and seitan (gluten or
wheat-meat) sandwiches, etc. You get the picture.
Others , it seems, are interested only in the strangeness of my
lunches, and don't care to partake. I don't mind, but I have found one
commonality in these people's reactions quite interesting--at least
three women, all thirty-something and white, have used a particular
word to describe certain dishes. When people express interest in my
food, the foodie that I am, I like to offer them a sample. One of them,
to express that, or why, she does not like curries, says curries are
bland. Curries bland? Maybe some watered-down British adaptations, but
not the pungent, hot and spicy Thai and Indian curries I eat!
How could one possibly call Thai and Indian curries, Middle Eastern
dips, and hot Mexican bean and vegetable dishes bland next to hot dogs,
burgers, fries, onion rings, meat and potatoes with gravy and peas, or
microwaveable frozen pasta entrees? Excuse me while I swallow some
expletives!
An online medical dictionary
defines 'bland diet' as "one that is free of irritating or stimulating
foods". Hot Indian and Thai curries? Definitely stimulating! For many a
Western palate even downright irritating. Health Square,
a health and nutrition website, describes a 'bland diet' as "limited to
foods that are soft, lightly spiced, and low in fiber," and prescribes
it for people suffering from "ulcers, bowel problems, nausea, vomiting,
or gas." Hummus? Soft, perhaps, but lightly spiced and low in fiber?
Nope and nope.
So is saying some foods are bland just a new, less politically
incorrect reaction to 'ethnic' or foreign food? Is it supposed to be a
gentle, inoffensive way of declining foods one considers too strange,
exotic, or foreign to try? I can't explain it any other way. If it's
too strange, too foreign, too far outside of one's culinary comfort
zone, call it 'bland'.
Originally Posted on Tuesday, May 29, 2007
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