food/agriculture

Hortense at Jezebel writes:

The ad depicts a horde of completely insane women, screaming with excitement… if, as the ad claims, these packs are “goodies for grown-ups,” then why are women the only ones going crazy over the cookies in this ad? The men in this ad react to the woman with a mix of “WTF” and “oh my god, you’re crazy” which only serves to make the women look even more pathetic and ridiculous.

This commercial tells a similar story: women totally lose it in the face of low calorie sweets.

NEW (Nov. ’09)! And, of course, there is holiday shopping (found at Ad Freak):

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wer7b29mreA[/youtube]

Lisa Wade, PhD is an Associate Professor at Tulane University. She is the author of American Hookup, a book about college sexual culture; a textbook about gender; and a forthcoming introductory text: Terrible Magnificent Sociology. You can follow her on Twitter and Instagram.

Piper A. sent us a link to a post at Cake Wrecks featuring “redneck” wedding cakes. As someone who recently received an invitation to a cousin’s wedding that included the words “hitched,” “shotgun,” “Honkers,” “Tri-Tip,” and “beer tenders,” I feel especially qualified to comment on these cakes.*

The fact that these cakes are considered “wrecks” reveals that we expect people to follow wedding rules. You are not allowed to have any cake you want, you must have a wedding cake and that cake must conform to certain specifications (apparently three tiers is not sufficient, neither is white frosting, and a sense of humor appears to be out). If you don’t conform, you are getting married wrong. In this case, if I may infer from the “redneck” statement, your wedding has no “class.”

See also this related post on “taste” and two more posts on how to do weddings right (i.e., girls should be skinny and be chosen).

* Extra credit for anyone who can tell from that list of words where my extended family lives.

Lisa Wade, PhD is an Associate Professor at Tulane University. She is the author of American Hookup, a book about college sexual culture; a textbook about gender; and a forthcoming introductory text: Terrible Magnificent Sociology. You can follow her on Twitter and Instagram.

The ownership of corporations under parent companies concentrates profits and profit motives, often in ways that undermine the progressive or conservative causes that the subsidiary companies purport to promote. Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream is famous for its progressive and countercultural flavors and activities.

A tribute to the countercultural bands, Phish and The Grateful Dead:

A pacifist message:

The Barack Obama inspired flavor, Yes Pecan:

Alas, in 2000 Ben and Jerry’s was bought by Unilever, the company that brings us (pseudofeminist) Dove, (misogynistic) Axe, and (racist) Fair and Lovely products (examples here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here).

Oh, to bring the irony full circle, Unilever owns Slimfast too.

Don’t shoot the messenger.

Hat tip to Jezebel.

In Something from the Oven, Laura Shapiro explains that, after WWII, the U.S. government made a huge push to get women out of jobs and back into the kitchen. So much for Rosie the Riveter.

Part of the propaganda involved a return to time-consuming home cooked meals. But this propanganda was up against a contradictory need of food-related companies to market to the general public the advances they had made during the war in non-perishable and pre-cooked and packaged food.  So, on the one hand, women were encouraged to spend all day on a roast and, on the other hand, they were encouraged to take advantage of new food technologies. 

This ad, from the 1940s, incites women to take advantage of Campbell’s pre-made soup:

Text:

“WOULDN’T I BE SILLY TO MAKE IT MYSELF?”

“Go to all that bother.. when Campbell’s is so homey and nourishing?  Not me!”

“When I was a little girl I remember we always made our own vegetable soup.  Mother used to devote just hours to to it. But one day when she was rushed, she tried Campbell’s Vegetable Soup.  My dad’s not so easy to please, but he ate a bowlful, and then another.  Since the Mother has served Campbell’s… and Dad’s been as pleased as a kid!

“I’m married now myself and — well, we young-marrieds all feel that same way.  I mean why bothe to make vegetable soup when Campbell’s Vegetable Soup is so wonderful — a grand-tasting beef stck and all those fifteen garden vegetables.  Why, every time I serve it my husband says: ‘Gosh, daring, this is really swell!’  And what better music can a wife hear than that?  Now I ask you!”

Ad via Found in Mom’s Basement.

In agriculture, monoculture is the practice of relying extensively on one crop with little biodiversity.  In the 1840s, a famine in Ireland was caused by a disease that hit potatoes, the crop on which Irish people largely relied.  At Understanding Evolution, an article reads:

The Irish potato clones were certainly low on genetic variation, so when the environment changed and a potato disease swept through the country in the 1840s, the potatoes (and the people who depended upon them) were devastated.

The article includes this illustration of how monocultures are vulnerable:

The Irish potato famine reveals how choices about how to feed populations, combined with biological realities, can have dramatic impacts on the world.  In the three years that the famine lasted, one out of every eight Irish people died of starvation.  Nearly a million emigrated to the United States, only to face poverty and discrimination, in part because of their large numbers.

The article continues:

Despite the warnings of evolution and history, much agriculture continues to depend on genetically uniform crops. The widespread planting of a single corn variety contributed to the loss of over a billion dollars worth of corn in 1970, when the U.S. crop was overwhelmed by a fungus. And in the 1980s, dependence upon a single type of grapevine root forced California grape growers to replant approximately two million acres of vines when a new race of the pest insect, grape phylloxera (Daktulosphaira vitifoliae, shown at right) attacked in the 1980s.

Gwen adds: The Irish potato famine is also an example of a reality about famines that we rarely discuss. In most famines there is food available in the country, but the government or local elites do not believe that those who are starving have any claim to that food. In the years of the Irish potato famine, British landowners continued to export wheat out of Ireland. The wheat crop wasn’t affected by the potato blight. But wheat was a commercial crop the British grew for profit. Potatoes were for Irish peasants to eat. We might think it would be obvious that when people are starving you’d make other food sources available to them, but that’s not what happened. In the social hierarchy of the time, many British elites didn’t believe that starving Irish people had a claim to their cash crop, and so they continued to ship wheat out of the country to other nations even while millions were dying or emigrating. Similarly, in the Ethiopian famines of the 1980s, the country wasn’t devoid of food; it’s just that poor rural people weren’t seen as having a right to food, and so available food was not redistributed to them. Many people in the country ate just fine while their fellow citizens starved.

So famine is often as much about politics and social hierarchies as it is about biology.

My friend Steve sells Cessnas (single engine propeller planes, usually with between two and four seats).  A four-seater basic single-engine Cessna will cost you about $200,000, plus insurance, hanger fees, regular maintenance, and check-ups.   They aren’t particularly fast (not jets): the $200,000 one will get you somewhere about twice as fast as a car.  The gas will cost you about twice as much.   And there’s a much bigger carbon footprint.

Last summer, Steve sold a six-seater single-engine Cessna to France.  Since someone had to fly it (and the trip was paid for), we decided to take it there ourselves.  (Okay, Steve decided to take it there himself; I decided to sit in the passenger seat.)  Among other things, the adventure was a fascinating look at how the other half, eh em, top one percent lives.  In this post, I’m going to talk about the terminals serving private planes (also posted about here).   If you fly by private plane, you don’t go to the main terminal.  There is a separate private terminal.  We went through a lot of those terminals as we flew from Omaha, Nebraska; to Bangor, Maine; to Goose Bay-Happy Valley, Canada (Newfoundland-Labrador border); to Narsarsuaq, Greenland; to Reykjavik, Iceland; to Aarhus, Denmark; and, finally, to Nice, France.

Because I have my priorities straight, the first thing I noticed about these terminals is that they all have free treats: muffins, candy, or cookies:

There was also always free coffee and soda and bottled water. (This, I gotta tell you, was torture because I was off caffeine for the trip and, on top of that, couldn’t drink anything before taking off because of the whole no-bathroom-on-the-plane-thing and living below the poverty line until you’re 32 really instills a desire to pilfer anything that’s not nailed down.)

Private plane travel is figuratively as well as literally delicious.  There is no “long-term parking.”  You park your car right up front in the complimentary parking lot.  Honestly, going to the grocery store is more challenging.  In the private terminal, you can wander about as you please; your things will not be confiscated if you leave them unattended. There are no announcements.  You will not wait in line.  There is no security, except that which is designed to make your life more comfortable. You will not be asked to walk through an x-ray machine or show anyone any paperwork. There are computers available if you would like to use them and free wireless if you brought your own. You will leave whenever you like and stay as long as you please.  And how nice, since the facilities are incredibly comfortable.

Steve let me borrow these photos from the Houston Million Air.  The main desk:

A lovely place to sit and watch TV comfortably:

And if that isn’t good enough for you, a free, private cinema:

There were also free magazines about things like investments, yachts, and other expensive things:

This is where I got the ads and articles aimed at exeedingly rich people that I have been posting recently (see here, here and here).

When we decide to leave, we just waltz out to our plane, jump in and taxi to the runway.  We would call ground control, say “we’re ready,” and they’d say “go ahead.”   We never waited more than three or four minutes to get clearance to take off.

When we landed, we’d taxi over to the terminal, jump out of the plane and wander in.  The interaction would go something like this:

THEM: Welcome Sir and Miss. Can we get your bags?

STEVE: Please.

[They go out and start unloading the plane.]

THEM: Can we arrange for a hotel?

STEVE: Why yes.

THEM: Will do. Would you prefer downtown or on the water?

STEVE: The water will be lovely.

THEM: One moment, please. [The hotel is called.] Your room is booked. Would you like us to arrange a rental car for you or would you like a ride to the hotel?

STEVE: We will take a rental car, please.

THEM: It will be just a few minutes. Please enjoy our complimentary beverages, delightful morsels, overstuffed chairs, and free wireless while you wait.

STEVE: We certainly will.

I am totally not kidding.

You could also call ahead and request a rental car.  In this case, they would drive it right up to your plane, unload your bags for you, and you’d just scoot across the tarmac and be off!

One final tidbit:

Steve and I left the U.S. and entered five different countries over the course of our trip.  We got through Canada and Greenland without being asked for our passports.  Iceland would be both the first and the last place we were required to show I.D.  Denmark and France welcomed us with wide arms and trust.  We were the special people.

UPDATE: Several commenters pointed out that once Steve and I were through Iceland, the law grants us entry to Denmark and France without I.D. Thanks for the correction!

Both Cole S. and Toban B. found this Nestle’s candy bar (Cole saw it at World Market):

The Yorkie website was down (the error message said for routine maintenance) when I tried it, but Toban managed to snag some quotes from it earlier that indicate how the bar is being marketed to men. The bar is described as “a big, solid, chunky eat, uniquely for men,” and the site goes on:

Yorkie is positioning itself as a chocolate bar for men who need a satisfying hunger buster. With five solid chunks of chocolate, it’s a man sized eat…

[Earlier] advertising reflected this with macho imagery – lorry drivers who take it one chunk at a time…
Yorkie still holds these values today but was relaunched in 1994 as a hunger satisfying bar.

It’s similar to the way that Hungry Man frozen dinners are marketed: the association with working-class male appetites, which presumably require big, “solid” meals to satisfy them after their hard days of work. Clearly any candy bar this serious isn’t appropriate for women. Oh, excuse me…not a candy bar, a hunger-satisfying bar. Women eat chocolate for emotional reasons or to bask in the luxury of the taste; men eat chocolate just to fill their stomachs. Notice that the advertising doesn’t focus on the types of things we generally see in Dove or Hershey’s ads for chocolate bars: the chocolate being rich, smooth, delicious, etc., which imply that eating chocolate is an indulgence rather than just a practical way to satisfy your hunger.

Also, in our comments Trevor pointed us to a conversation about a pink version of the Yorkie.  I am completely perplexed.  Along the top it says “VERY LIMITED EDITION.”  Along the bottom is says “5 HUNKY CHUNKS OF MILK CHOCOLATE.”  Along the top, diagnolly, it reads: “GET YOUR LIPS AROUND THIS!” 

So is it a girl version?  I can’t tell.  The female figure is still crossed-out with the “no” symbol.  I don’t know what pink thing she is holding.  I am perplexed.

Also note, Men’s Pocky (thanks Lis Riba): 

Candy, like other high-sugar products, are often gendered female.  Perhaps that’s why this candy marketing is making such a big point of making candy manly?  Notice that the Men’s Pocky is “bitter,” i.e., not too sweet.  That seems to be happening a lot these days, as in the new Snickers and Twix marketing, see here, here, here, and here.

NEW! Keely W. sent in a commercial for Mars’ new candy bar aimed at women, Fling (found here).  The message: You shouldn’t (sexually) indulge a lot, but you can (sexually) indulge just a little… with the help of Mars Co., of course.

This, dear reader, is a pound of Kopi Luwak Arabica coffee, for sale here:

You can buy a pound of this gourmet coffee for just $180. If you’re on a budget, you can get 2 ounces for $40.

Now, you may be wondering, is it worth it? Should I spend so much for coffee? Luwakcoffee.com believes that it is:

Yes, the coffee is expensive, but so are all of the better things in life. You have to pay more for quality or uniqueness. This is a class issue: part of what you are paying for is exclusiveness, the knowledge that not everyone can afford a Chanel bag or Christian Louboutin shoes or Kopi Luwak coffee. Its inaccessibility to the masses is part of how you know it is worth having. And from this perspective, Kopi Luwak is quite desirable: at most 1,000 pounds or so make it to market each year, which makes it so expensive. It’s so desirable, it was included in the 2006 Emmy Awards gift bags for celebrities!

Now, at this point an ignorant but aspiring gourmand might ask, “What, pray tell, is so special about Kopi Luwak coffee? What is this ‘unusual phenomenon’? I’m so anxious to know!”

Why, my dear, the beans for your coffee were eaten by a civet and then handpicked out of its crap to be brewed into coffee for you! It’s terribly adventurous, isn’t it?

What, don’t believe me? Here is your Kopi Luwak coffee, pre-handpicking (image found here):

Delicious! If you’d prefer to buy it in this form (called “natural” coffee), you can buy it that way too. [For the record: I will never be able to eat a Payday candy bar again.]

In researching this topic for you, Reader, I found many properties ascribed to Kopi Luwak coffee. It is supposedly lower in caffeine than regular coffee because the civet’s stomach acids digest some of the caffeine. Or something. It’s supposedly less bitter and has less of some protein or other, and that’s why it tastes so much better. One researcher said it is “earthy, musty, syrupy, smooth and rich with jungle and chocolate undertones,” although I question how much better it can taste since “[though] certified blinded human tasters could find little difference in the overall flavour and aroma of the beans, an electronic nose machine could detect that the aroma of the civet coffee beans is also affected.” I’m glad a machine thinks they smell fantastic.

Why did I decide to post this on Soc Images? Well, one, the pure absurdity of it. However, there are some sociologically useful things you could use it for. One might be to discuss food and our cultural taboos on food. My guess is if you had students make lists of things they’d never, ever eat, no matter what, and then made them slowly pare them down based on the assumption that they were starving, people might give in and say, “Ok, I’d eat a slug,” but few people would say “Fine, I’d eat poop if I had to.” I could be wrong, but I think most people would see eating another animal’s fecal matter as beyond disgusting. And yet here we have an example of people doing it under no duress (that I can see) and considering it a delicacy.

I suspect that students would then express horror and shock at the idea of drinking such coffee, but you might then point out that many of them probably eat the product of an animal’s digestive tract somewhat regularly: honey. Bees digest pollen to turn it into honey. It could lead to a nice discussion of how we come to think of foods as normal or disgusting, and why we might continue to eat honey and think it’s just fine, since we’re used to it, but think people who eat beans picked out of civet poop are gross.

Of course, you could also use it as an example of how, if it is sufficiently expensive and difficult to find, anything can be labeled a delicacy and sold to upper-middle-class yuppies. Even wild cat* crap.

*Not really a cat, though it’s called the civet cat.

Gwen Sharp is an associate professor of sociology at Nevada State College. You can follow her on Twitter at @gwensharpnv.