Edible Memory: The Lure of Heirloom Tomatoes and Other Forgotten Foods

281 Pages·2015·2.25 MB·English

by  Jennifer A. Jordan

Edible Memory
Edible Memory
The Lure of Heirloom Tomatoes & Other Forgotten Foods
Jennifer A. Jordan
The University of Chicago Press
Chicago and London
Jennifer A. Jordan is associate professor of sociology at the University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee. She is
also the author of Structures of Memory: Understanding Urban Change in Berlin and Beyond.
The University of Chicago Press, Chicago 60637
The University of Chicago Press, Ltd., London
© 2015 by The University of Chicago
All rights reserved. Published 2015.
Printed in the United States of America
24 23 22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 1 2 3 4 5
ISBN-13: 978-0-226-22810-5 (cloth)
ISBN-13: 978-0-226-22824-2 (e-book)
DOI: 10.7208/chicago/9780226228242.001.0001
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Jordan, Jennifer A., 1970– author.
Edible memory: the lure of heirloom tomatoes & other forgotten foods / Jennifer A. Jordan.
pages; cm
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-0-226-22810-5 (cloth: alk. paper) —
ISBN 978-0-226-22824-2 (e-book)
1. Heirloom varieties (Plants) 2. Food—social aspects. I. Title.
SB453.5.J67 2015
634—dc23 2014035972
♾ This paper meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).
For Clyde Carlos
Contents
Acknowledgments
Prologue
1 • Edible Memory
2 • A Short History of Heirloom Tomatoes
3 • Remembering Apples
4 • Forgotten Turnips and Other Vegetables
5 • Mobile Vegetables
6 • Lost Plums and Found Mangoes
Epilogue
Notes
Bibliography
Index
Acknowledgments
I ALWAYS READ a book’s acknowledgments in search of networks and
connections, but also as an insight into the conditions under which a book was
produced. In my experience a book takes twice as long to write as I originally
expect, and this one has undergone dramatic transformations over the years of its
slow creation. Many, many people have helped me along the way, and some may
already have forgotten the role they played at critical early stages. So much of
this book was a learning experience for me, and it is deeply pleasurable and
immensely humbling to realize how little I knew when I began and how much I
had to learn from the people I spoke with and read about. I very much appreciate
the patience of so many people, both with my questions and with the time that
has elapsed between our conversations in fields, orchards, or gardens and the
appearance of this book.
The first people to thank are those who funded various stages of the research.
A Fulbright fellowship to the International Research Center for Cultural Studies
(IFK) in Vienna in 2007 afforded the first opportunity to really throw myself into
this research (quite literally at one point). The remarkable collection of people at
the IFK played a crucial role in developing my thinking about this subject. The
opportunity to read, write, talk, and eat with such an energetic group of graduate
students, midcareer faculty like myself, and bright stars in the academic skies
was invaluable.
A subsequent and much longer fellowship from the Austrian Research Fund
(FWF) for a position as a senior scientist at the Austrian Academy of Sciences
took place in the welcoming context of the Institute for Cultural Studies (IKT),
led first by Moritz Csáky and then by Michael Rössner. While much of this time
was spent working on a different book, discussing my research with these
wonderful colleagues was invaluable for Edible Memory as well as for the book
I was writing then (a book about gardens that will someday see the light of day).
This position also gave me the opportunity to meet with a diverse array of
colleagues from many disciplines, who would bring me newspaper clippings
about heirloom vegetable fairs and generously critique my work. Moritz Csáky
in particular contributed great enthusiasm and extremely fruitful conversations,
most often within the welcoming walls of the Altes Café. Special thanks in this
era are also due to Aleida Assmann, Kurt Farasin, Lutz Musner, Reinhard
Puntigam, Herwig Pucher, Oliver Rathkolb, and especially Beate Koller and
Dirk Rupnow. Other stages of the research were helped tremendously by the
gardeners, curators, monks, and public relations people who answered my e-
mails and showed me around. Marcia Carmichael, Andy Mariani, and Andy
Griffin were extremely helpful, as were Chris Braithwaite and Ulrike Nehiba.
I was able to take advantage of external funding only because of the patience
and forbearance of my colleagues at the University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee,
who recognized the once-in-a-lifetime chance these fellowships afforded me.
They tolerated my lengthy absence, welcomed me back home and (as so many
others have done) passed along recipes and tales of fabulous tomatoes. The
colleagues who read my work include Nancy Mathiowetz, Bill Mayrl, Stacey
Oliker, and Kent Redding. It would have taken considerably more than seven
years to write this book without the help of Deb Ritchie Kolberg, Alexander
Taylor, Heather Durant, Mary O’Bryan, and Diana Jaskierny, who oversaw hours
of scanning and searching for everything from articles about peaches to statistics
about supermarkets. I am so grateful for their help and their good cheer! Deb
Ritchie Kolberg in particular provided not only support but also inspiration, in
our many conversations about the world in general and food in particular.
Ashkan Rezvani Naraghi also deserves many thanks for his tireless work in the
final stages of editing, as well as his assistance with the next project.
My students over the many years of my career also deserve many thanks. I
have only once taught a class on food, but I manage to work the topic into
seminars on the history of sociological theory or urban change nonetheless. My
students have followed the progress of the book, waited patiently for comments
on their work when I was trying to meet a deadline, brought me articles and
stories and bits of trivia, and inspired me with their curiosity and enthusiasm for
the subject. I have learned more from them than they will probably ever know,
and their imprint is definitely on the pages of this book. I hesitate to name names
because I would no doubt leave out someone important, so suffice it to say that I
am grateful to you all.
Several professionals in the world of words lent a hand at various points in the
arduous task of writing, including Shari Caudron, Peter Dreyer, and Alice
Bennett, cogent readers whose efforts helped clarify the manuscript at crucial
moments. In the world of sociology and neighboring disciplines, Wendy
Griswold, Chandra Mukerji, Jeff Olick, Julie Guthman, Michael Carolan, and
Rick Biernacki, among many others, offered valuable insight and support across
the many years of writing. The talks I gave at widely different stages of research,
writing, and thinking also shaped the final product, including talks at
Northwestern University, the University of California, Santa Cruz, Ohio State
University, the Chicago Rarities Orchard Project, Slow Food/Terra Madre
Austria, University College Dublin, and the Chicago Columbia Society.
Speaking to such a range of audiences honed my thinking about food and
memory, and I also appreciate the stories and examples that people happily
shared at every one of these events.
When it takes seven years to write a book, the debts of gratitude to friends and
family and colleagues pile up considerably. Many, many thanks are due to the
people who have read and commented on portions of the manuscript over the
years. Particular thanks are due to Jim Jordan, Sandy Jordan, and Dick Archer
for generously reading the entire manuscript at a late stage. My mother, Sandy
Jordan, deserves special thanks for the steady stream of newspaper clippings and
recipes, and for her careful perusal of British Country Living for any information
about antique pigs or heirloom beans. How lucky I am to have parents who
understand why their daughter might set out to write a book about tomatoes, and
who have been unwavering in their support from the moment it became clear
that much of my life would be wrapped up in words and books and classrooms.
Much love and many thanks are also due to some of my favorite people on this
earth, Carl Jordan, Carrie Diaz, and Clyde Jordan, for their support and patience
with the project, and for their gentle encouragement to wrap it up.
Jasmine Alinder, Aims McGuinness, Alice McGuinness, Eliza Mae
McGuinness, Rob Smith, Nakia Gordon, Marcus Filippello, Lisa Silverman,
David Divalerio, Tami Williams, Elena Gorfinkel, Jennifer Johung, Andy Noble,
Kennan Ferguson, Carolyn Eichner, Jocelyn Szczepaniak-Gillece, Richard
Leson, Philip Minehan, Oriol Mirosa, Gordon Gauchat, Tasha Oren, Stewart
Ikeda, Gary Steinhafel, Jocelyn Servick, Isabella Winkler, Andrew Zimmerman,
Johanna Bockman, Laura Avedisian, Andre Venter, Anne Basting, Dan Vyleta,
Lauren Fox, Chantal Wright, Josh Dunsby, Rebecca Wittman, Christine Evans,
Karolina May, Nick Fleischer, Brad Lichtenstein, Debbie Jordan, Ian Dunhill,
Hadley Northrop, Anne Bramley, Eric Beck, Amanda Seligman, Dirk Rupnow,
Steve McKay, Megan Baumann, Chris Henke, Carolyn Hsu, Doug Hartmann,
Laura Miller, Winson Chu, Dan Kern, Brigitte Gretner, Rolf Göder, Colleen
Foley, and many other dear friends and colleagues here in Milwaukee and
beyond offered beautiful meals and nights out, great conversations, and the
pleasant sociability necessary (to me) for productive writing. All of these kind
and generous people have been grounding and comforting, a perfect antidote to
the solitude of writing. Jasmine Alinder in particular offered so many meals and
pep talks and encouraging text messages—I’m so grateful for the happy accident
of finding an old friend just down the block, thousands of miles from home. Ana
Acena, Kam Shapiro, Jason Frank, and Jerry Johnson all influenced this book in
various ways, and certainly through the many meals and conversations we’ve
had together, often within sight of a shoreline. And I’m pretty sure the title of the
book came about in Kam and Ana’s living room. Thanks are also due to
Margaret Kaye Curtis, whose strength and resilience continue to inspire me, in
good times and hard times alike. Alexander Kaesbohrer deserves thanks as well,
even if we didn’t get to spend as much time together in the writing of this book
as in the last one. Jeremie Ruby-Strauss may not be accustomed to having his
name associated with such a subdued topic as heirloom vegetables, but his
friendship and editorial acumen have also played an important role in getting this
book out of my brain and into the world.
Much of this book came about while I was living in Austria, a country of
passionate eaters and remarkably good food. Dominik Göbel, Lena Göbel, Maria
Moser, and Heinz Göbel (rest his soul) deserve many thanks for their hospitality
and friendship. I am so fortunate to have been taken in by all of them, and I hope
they know how much I appreciate their kindness and warmth. Heinz left this
world too soon, just as this book was being completed, and he leaves an imprint
on the manuscript. I have such clear images in my mind of talking with him at
the kitchen table, or watching him work quietly in his studio or gather windfall
fruit in the meadow out back. My thinking about tomatoes, apples, turnips, and
so much else was forged in the crucible created by his son, Dominik Göbel, who
long understood this project better than I did, and who engaged in years of
conversations and excursions with me, talking through these ideas year after
year, even when we went down different paths.
Toward the end of the long period of writing, I received a boost of enthusiasm
from wonderful people in Chicago. Conversations with Dave Snyder of the
Chicago Rarities Orchard Project, with Alex Poltorak of the Urban Canopy, and
with LaManda Joy of the Peterson Garden Project, among many others, helped
me see the end of the book on the horizon, in addition to providing some of the
most delightful moments of the writing process in their farms and gardens, and
in their company.
Many, many thanks are also due to Doug Mitchell of the University of
Chicago Press, whose enthusiasm for the project energized me the moment we
met, in a fateful and pleasurable conversation in a San Francisco Hilton,
reminding me that people outside my own head might also find heirloom
tomatoes interesting. Our correspondence is peppered less with discussions of
prose than with thoughts about cherries and apples, and with recollections of
past meals and plans for future ones. I look forward to many more good meals
with Doug and am very grateful to be in his orbit. Tim McGovern, Erin DeWitt,
and Carrie Adams have also been immensely helpful, and the anonymous
readers of the manuscript offered invaluable suggestions with generous and
careful readings. The book is vastly improved by their selfless and anonymous
work. At the same time, even though I could not have written this book without