On Why We Should Play with Our Food

Still from the movie Daisies directed by Věra Chytilová, 1968

Eating is perhaps our most fundamental act. Through its necessity, we’re democratised, for none are exempt from hunger. Yet, when food security becomes less of a concern, this democracy is subsumed by etiquette. You might not think twice about raising a forkful of food to your mouth; or with which hand you wield your knife: yet each mealtime move we make enacts an elaborate game codified by millenia of social constraints. Eating has thus become one of our most refined arts. Every process, from preparation to defecation, is bound by strict rules; many so integral they are ritual. The most basic rules of eating are, at their core, based in hygiene; as the adage goes: don’t shit where you eat. This hygiene is enshrined into the ritualistic practices of many cultures through acts such as ceremonial cleansing. 

Since antiquity, eating etiquette has become a principal social stratifier. Ancient Greek and Roman elites reclined to eat: a sign of status reserved for free men—women, children, and the enslaved were resigned to seated eating. These reclined banquents would be piled high with the spoils of empire; decadence was strictly encouraged. With the fall of the Roman Empire in 476 CE, economic depression provoked cultural suppression, and mealtimes became mired in myriad rules of restraint. Leisurely reclined eating was supplanted by authoritative upright seating, and food was theocratised by divine rules of ethical conduct. With Christian piety, cuisine was consumed by asceticism: food was solely for sustenance, and its appreciation was considered gluttonous. During this period, the dining room was rearranged. The democratically circular table was supplanted by the rigid rectangle one, with the presiding head elevated upon a platform. 

As Mediaeval piety was supplanted by Renaissance ceremony, a new bourgeoisie was born from between the ranks of aristocracy and peasants. Threatened by these nouveau riche, the elite further codified their etiquette, elaborating mealtimes with myriad rules. For the elite, eating became an act, accompanied by musicians and onlookers, and food was elevated to a major decorated art for the first time in history. By contrast, the luxury of food security was not afforded to the less advantaged peasant class, so they took their sustenance in the most practical manner: sat communally, eating by hand from shared bowls. In this context, the ritualisation of eating can, in fact, be read in parity with food security. When food is about sustenance, eating is a necessity that negates the privilege of choice. As soon as food becomes an enjoyment, conventions are established to demarcate who can eat what, and why. From the Renaissance to the Premodern, the elite continued to elaborate on eating etiquette. Sumptuous banquets came to be seen as too accessible, and royalty took to dining privately to preserve the mystery of their authority, making exclusivity à la mode.

Alonso Sanchez Coello - King Philip II of Spain banqueting with his family and courtiers (The Royal feast), 1579

In France, the class disparity reached boiling point during the 18th century. While the elite luxuriated, peasants faced rising food prices, and—though Marie Antoinette’s “let them eat cake!” was likely apocryphal—sentiments soon turned to revolt. The French Revolution changed subjectivity by making something thought impossible, possible. Widely accepted truths were now questioned, and the hierarchy of dining became democratised. Communal eating became a symbol of civic solidarity and shared eating became a revolutionary egalitarian principle; 19th century state banquets saw nobility, politicians, and the nouveau riche breaking bread. During this time, the European restaurant was born, though earlier restaurants have been recorded in both China and Japan. Unlike the inn, these novel European eateries promised fine dining experiences for anyone who could afford it.

In England, the most upheaving Revolution was the Industrial, which burgeoned a new ‘middle class,’ along with whom the dinner party was born. Founded on family ideals, the dinner party was a demonstration of household stability, and a stage for business and matchmaking. Manners evolved to match these negotiations, helping impose a discipline that had to be learned by any who sought to exceed their social rank. As table manners multiplied, so did its wares, with additional cutlery and glassware. With World War I, however, decadence was once again deemed disreputable; an austerity that continued into the mid-20th century, until consumerism spilled out of the USA and smothered the world. 

Nowadays etiquette retains little socio-cultural sway, and table manners have become habitual. The philosopher Michel Foucault suggests that, without habit we’re inapt. The cultural customs we call habits give our movements meaning; so ingrained we’re no longer cognisant of enacting them. These rules enable societies to function; yet there's a fine line between discipline as a tool for cohabitation, and discipline as a means for control. Rituals are conditional of civilisation: they showcase ancestry; upbringing; and origins. We learn to belong through rituals and manners, which then constrain us to our preordained class. 

Still from the series Downton Abbey, 2010

Yet, if our sojourn through history’s dining halls has taught us anything, it is that etiquette is a cultural construct. From Roman to Renaissance; the pious to the austere: manners are mutable. How might we be liberated if we ‘un-control’ our diets? In this, art has radicalised convention. During the Futurist movement, artists subverted traditional etiquette: exemplified by the Futurist Filipo Tomasi Marinetti’s meals, which dictated new and unusual ways of eating, while also commenting on the conventions of cuisine. Contemporary artist Zina Saro Wiwa continues to radicalise the ritual of eating through her art. Wiwa’s Table Manners draws on food’s origins in the soil to draw the eater back into the landscape in a physical and metaphysical way.

These artists’ playful approaches to plating challenge the prescriptive history of dining. Taking cues from their practice, we might gain an insight into how we can challenge widely accepted notions around eating and, in spite of our manners, relearn how to play with our food.