In HDS' festive meals, what are the ingredients of a cultural experience?

Maureen E. Johannessen doesn't get to bring a pool to work every day.

But it also isn't every day that she and her staff at the Leverett House Dining Hall scrap the steel trays of oatmeal to bring out brightly patterned fabrics, flowers, fountains, and, yes--a blue plastic pool.

Down the street in Dunster and Mather Houses, Dining Hall General Manager Richard M. Spingel and his crew had been moving tables since late Saturday night to make room for the two large wind-surfing sails they hauled in early yesterday morning. Eliot House boasted a frozen drink bar in a makeshifts thatched hut and swaying schools of helium-balloon fish weighted down by pineapples. Signs instructed diners to "eat your fruit or wear it on your head."

The efforts of Harvard Dining Services (HDS) in yesterday's Caribbean "Festive Meal" did not go unnoticed.

Mather House's Theresa Crockett '00 said she has never traveled from her native Canada to the West Indies--and excitedly donned a straw hat and sunglasses while running around with her disposable camera and a new-found ukulele.

But for those who hail from the Caribbean, who know what a home-cooked meal from "the Islands" really looks like, the HDS celebratory brunch is not exactly "authentic."

HDS officials don't deny the problems of putting on an "exotic" meal, but argue that it's better they try than have nothing at all.

an Authentic Experience?

While Joelle N. Simpson '99, former co-chair of the Harvard-Radcliffe Caribbean Club, says she enjoyed aspects of the meal, she did find the fantasy world HDS evoked--complete with beach balls and surf boards--"obviously touristic."

"It is true that there are some aspects of the Caribbean that do look like that, especially the parts set up for American tourists," says Simpson, who grew up in Trinidad. "But when you get into the real culture, it's nothing like that. It's not like we sit in our homes drinking pina coladas with little umbrellas."

Fairbank Professor of Chinese Society James Watson, who teaches the popular course Anthropology 105, "Food and culture," suggests that finding an "authentic" cultural experience is like trying to shoot a moving target.

"Authenticity is in the eyes of the beholder. Who is to say what is 'authentic' food? Authenticity depends on what one has in youth--what your mother and grandmother cook for you," he says.

Although Shivani Grover '99 of Mather House says the food at yesterday's brunch did not exactly match what she's used to eating with family from Trinidad and Tobago, she agrees that defining authentic Caribbean culture is an inherently difficult task.

"Why should I be offended? Every island is different and has its own food. You can't blame them," she says.

"And everyone's mom cooks differently. The food is not authentic, but it is fun," Grover says. "I'm sure nobody really thinks this is Caribbean food."

But others worry that students do make meaning out of the festivity--which might transmit and perpetuate dangerous stereotypes.

Mohamad M. Al-Ississ '99, president of the Harvard-Radcliff Society of Arab Students, says he thinks last month's "Saharan Nights" meal--featuring imported sand, palm trees, "oasis" tapas bars and fake snakes--was a little over the top.

"The food was good. But I think the name is a bit too much. We shouldn't push the already existing stereotypes," he says. "With swords all over the place, they're creating the imaginary fantasy of 1,001 Nights. How much of that is true?"

Fantasy, he warns, can sometimes obscure the subtle contested social dimensions of food.

"Food can be very politicized in the Middle East...especially when you have various foods being called 'Israeli,'" Allssiss says.

"It's nice to have the fantasy, but they should be careful about what they present," he says.

Oatmeal and Bread

HDS officials say they recognize the inherent problems with any kind of cultural presentation.

"That's a tough one in the age of P.C. and one we struggle with," says Ted A. Mayer, HDS director. "There are certain things that we don't do well, and they don't necessarily meet the original standard."

For example, some of HDS' employees--many themselves Portuguese--perpetually disagree about the appropriate ingredients to a Portuguese Kale soup. Similar concerns emerge when planning an entire Festive Meal.

"I don't know. How do you deal with that?" Mayer asks. "Not do anything? You take a chance."

Crista Martin, HDS publications and communications coordinator, says it's important to experiment.

"I'd hate to see us not do the meals for fear of offending someone. We try very hard not to do something upsetting or controversial," Martin says.

Professor Watson agrees.

"If they don't try to diversify the food, what are they going to give people? Oatmeal and bread? That's problematic too," he says. "They have to run an institution and feed people. If administrators start worrying about every permutation to diversity, things collapse."

And Martin argues that controversy isn’t always bad. "It should be fun, and it should be controversial. If we can talk about the different ways that different people view things--and if that's brought up by a meal--that is great."

The Imagineers

Meanwhile, HDS dedicates considerable human resources to planning and executing a two-hour extravaganza six times a year.

Executive Chef Michael Miller starts selecting Festive Meals in the summer, consulting recipe books, visiting local restaurants, weighing past successes ("La Groceria") and failures ("Worldwide Vegetarian Day") and imagining new possibilities.

When meals are flops, Miller hears about it. An otherwise-successful Tuscan dinner featured an unpopular chocolate chicken.

"The feedback cards weren't pretty," Miller chuckles.

HDS officials say the meals' food does not cost much more than an average dinner and plan extra costs in their annual budgets. Decorations for the Festive Meals range from $200 to $300 per House dining hall per event, and HDS has learned how to save money by spanning some Festive Meals--like Saharan Nights--over several dinners, sharing props among dining halls.

According to HDS Associate Director of Communications Alexandra E. McNitt, the meals are intended to break the monotony of the regular meal plan--both for the students and dining hall staff. And recently, since some Houses have extra time to execute their meals, "friendly competition" to throw the biggest spectacle ensues, McNitt says.

Mayer notes that the opportunity to be creative increases the staff's skill level and boosts morale.

And if some students, such as Audrey M. Hong '99, worry that dining hall workers are being demeaned by having to "put on a show" for students, HDS officials point to the workers' beyond-the-call-of-duty participation.

Although McNitt, Martin and their marketing staff send packets of suggestions and information to the individual Houses--including paper parrots, little fish and shells, candles (depending on House restrictions) and carefully-researched photographs of colors and scenery to evoke a certain mood--McNitt says dining hall workers incorporate their own decorations from home, sometimes valuables, to create a festive atmosphere.

In the past, HDS employees have taken it upon themselves to build cranberry bogs and brought in tents and canoes to spice up the atmosphere.

"The House system allows students to get to know the staff," Martin says. "They are very interested in the students."

Lessons From the Kitchen

With all of HDS' efforts, some students say they wish the Festive Meal could be a bit more instructive.

"I wouldn't expect [HDS] to get all of the subtleties of the cultures," Simpson says. "It would have been cool if they had table tents that show what the different flags look like so that people could identify it with something other than just the Virgin Islands and Jamaica--more than just a spring break place."

"I think that they could say where the recipes come from," says Ariana Silverman '99 of Kirkland House. "I told at least 15 people what the difference between baba ganoush and hummous was at the last [Saharan Nights] dinner," she says.

Simpson suggests that the staff, too, might have played more of an instructive role yesterday, emphasizing the large percentage of dining hall staff who are Caribbean.

Miller says the rub on yesterday’s ribs came from the mental cookbook of Adams House Chef Winston Maynard, himself Caribbean.

According to Spingel, about a dozen members of his staff who worked on yesterday’s brunch were Caribbean, and he did consult his staff in preparing the meal. In the past, their knowledge of native cuisines helped in preparation of plantains, with which other staff cooks weren't as familiar.

Simpson and others say it would be nice if HDS allowed students to meet with these staff members in the context of Caribbean culture.

And Al-Ississ says he would want HDS to coordinate with ethnic student organizations when planning meals that claim to represent their cultures.

"If they approached us, we would be more than willing to provide them with suggestions that would make it more realistic," Al-Ississ says. "We could have coordinated other events at the same time to show our culture and food."

Given HDS's history of responsiveness to student concerns--exemplified by their ubiquitous yellow comment cards--Martin says her office is open to suggestions and has incorporated student input in the past.

Meanwhile, Watson says trying to win the authenticity game is useless.

"You can't win. A sense of humor is the only way to survive," Watson says. "Given what I had as an undergrad at the University of Iowa, I think that I would have been happy to have some sort of variation. The food then was unparalleled in foulness."