On a recent trip to Montreal, my boyfriend and I visited a vegan restaurant we discovered through a quick Google search. (I’m a vegetarian and wary of mediocre kosher restaurant fare. He keeps kosher but will eat in vegetarian and vegan restaurants. This was a good compromise – in theory).
Our bohemian server, who was also the restaurant’s chef and owner, let us know that aside from using no animal byproducts, the restaurant had another strict policy: guests are required to eat everything on their plates. Meaning, everything (leftover sauce on the plate included).
When we cheerfully assured him we weren’t “typical wasteful New Yorkers,” he launched into a fervent and mostly incoherent diatribe about food waste, the Iraq War, and America’s Puritanical intolerance. The food he eventually served was remarkable – an amazing tangle of flavors and textures. But we ate our meal in uncomfortable shock and left with a sour taste in our mouths.
The experience left me wondering: How much does the revolution belong at the dinner table?
On the one hand, food itself is revolutionary. Paul Cezanne once wrote, “The day is coming when a single carrot freshly observed will set off a revolution.” And he was right – food production is connected to virtually every imaginable global, social, and environmental “issue” (e.g. global warming, worker rights, global trade, soil erosion, animal welfare, ground water pollution, obesity, etc.) The food choices we make can literally change the world.
On the other hand, food is meant to be savored, and relished. Shared meals have the unique capacity to bring people together and build community. Nothing squelches the joy of sharing a meal like a conversation about battery cages. A significant part of the reason I decided to stop being a vegan was that every meal I ate with others turned into a question and answer session. I initially loved feeling like I was educating people about animal welfare and resource conservation. But the routine grew tiresome to the point where I literally dreaded eating with other people.
Within the Jewish tradition, Shabbat meals focus on sharing pleasure and community through food. There is also an emphasis on sharing words of Torah during the meal to expand its joy and significance. The only time (I can think of) where revolution enters the meal in Jewish tradition is on Passover, when the food becomes a symbolic embodiment of the Exodus.
I’m not suggesting that we shouldn’t discuss the challenges of the global food system. On the contrary, I think we are obligated to be engaged with our food – to ask where it comes from, how it was grown, and whom/what it possibly harmed on the way to our plates. I am simply questioning whether, ironically, if these conversations should be kept off the dinner table?
I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts – does revolution belong at the dinner table?

I would say that the “what I eat and do not eat” conversation DOES belong at dinner - but it should not be militant and it should not be preachy. I don’t sit with people who eat lobster or bacon-cheeseburgers and tell them that they’re grossing me out by eating traif or by eating something unhealthy… They’re grown-ups and they can decide what to eat without my input. I do get the questions about my kosher-style of eating all the time - and I take time to explain what’s behind my food choices - doing my best to not be preachy - and to not make less observant Jews uncomfortable because I just told them I wouldn’t eat what they’re eating in my presence… So it should be part of the conversation - but not revolutionary…
I don’t know if this is exactly what you meant about revolution and the dinner table, but your post made me think about shmita for some reason–the practice of letting fields lie fallow every seventh year, and letting anyone take the food that grows naturally, and all of the “problems” that this causes in Israel, where people who observe shmita have to wonder, at every meal, where their food came from, who grew it (land “rented out” to non-Jews is not subject to shmita rules according to some). It’s not so much that revolutionary enters into the dinner discussion–Passover may be the only time that we are commanded to speak ABOUT something (except for the “arami oved avi” bit when the first fruits were brought to the Temple in Jerusalem, the text for which is the source for part of the Haggadah for this very reason)–but shmita is a very tangible, revolutionary presence in the lives of people who observe it.
Sort of related, but not really, I’m surprised that shmita doesn’t come up more when talking about Jews, food, and sustainable agriculture.
Apologies for the rambling.
ALG - you make a really good point. I was speaking primarily from the eyes of a consumer who can “make change” in the world of food production by voting with her pocket book (i.e. buying/supporting products that are sustainably and ethically produced.)
But the food revolution is equally important on the production end…and the farmers making decisions around shmita are part of the food revolution as well. In terms of shmita, Hazon’s Tuv Ha’Aretz CSA farmer in Israel, Yigal Deustcher, is facing these issues right now. The shmita year starts next Rosh HaShana, and Yigal is trying to figure out how to observe the mitzvah and yet continue to move forward with the goals and dreams he has for his one-year-old farm.
[…] Imagine your partner came home one night, sat down to dinner, and began to rant about the tragedies of the American food system. And imagine this partner continued to rant, every night - in front of friends and family - about inhumane slaughtering, the GMOs poisoning our breakfast cereal, and the loss of soil fertility due to conventional farming. Imagine the friends stopped coming over for dinner and you started to wonder who this person was and if you’d ever be able to simply “enjoy” your food again. Would your response be to go on a 5-month cross-country trip with your partner and young daughter to create a documentary film that explored farming, the food industry, and the way America eats? […]