Greek to Me January 2008
Recipe For An Ailing Community
©2007 by Michael Raysses
They say that all great relationships are predicated on honesty. Or really sophisticated, well-executed deception. In any case, I am opting for candor. In that spirit, I have a confession to make: I’ve never traveled outside of the contiguous United States. That is, of course, unless I count my time spent on the island of Nantucket while participating in a historically accurate reenactment of the capture of Moby Dick. The bottom line is that I feel I have as much standing to write about global community as I do about time travel.
Call me a cynic but at first blush, “global community” strikes me as a phrase created by some multi-national corporation to label their next target market. When I read the newspaper to get a sense of what’s going on in the world, the global community depicted is one torn with strife. Assuming the word “community” denotes a group of people with a common sense of purpose and interest makes this expression oxymoronic. It’s right up there with military justice, reality TV, and bad sex. As with all things contradictory, I am left with a raft of questions. What ever happened to diplomacy that isn’t based on belligerence? Where are the ambassadors and the diplomats whose job it is to ameliorate relations between their respective countries, and thus cultivate a global community? I don’t see any evidence of anything playing out that even closely resembles community, at least not on the world stage. But since all the world is a stage, I look to smaller venues for examples of what it is I think people are trying to capture when they refer to the “global community.” And the best illustration that I have found has come in a most inconspicuous place.
As part of my show business apprenticeship, I have received the functional equivalent of a Ph.D. in the food services industry. As a Greek-American, I thought that it was a cultural imperative. Let’s face it, I don’t care where you grew up, the good money says there was a local greasy spoon/diner that was owned by a proprietor of Greek descent. So my tenure within that realm hardly comes as a surprise. Because I live in one of the great melting pot cities of the world, toiling in any restaurant here has meant seeing the global community well-represented in the faces of my co-workers. From the valets out front to the dishwashers buried deep within the bowels of some of the finest dining establishments this city has to offer, there are men and women from every corner of the world, of all ages and experiences. Here, oddly enough, is where I see hope for global community. Here I see people united in a joint endeavor, overcoming language barriers, cultural biases, and just plain ignorance, all in service to provide more than mere sustenance to those who have paid for the privilege of being there. Whether they realize it or not, they are all goodwill ambassadors, wielding what I think is an overlooked and undervalued tool of global diplomacy—great food.
There
is a universality about food that makes it a natural for what I am proposing.
Clearly, everyone eats. But we fail to recognize that each culture’s cuisine
represents an opportunity to establish bonds with that enclave. There are
similarities to be tasted, while exposing subtle differences as well. I
have witnessed first-hand people’s native curiosity about food from distant
lands, and how that curiosity promotes openness to cultures to which they
might be otherwise closed.
Recently, while serving a large family that happened to be from the Middle
East, I made a joke that fell flat. Something got lost in translation and
I was faced with a group of people who suddenly found me offensive. Having
realized that, I knelt down close to the father/host so that only he would
hear me. I apologized for offending him, making it clear that I was merely
trying to entertain him and his guests. This calmed him. That is, until
he began to order for everyone, requesting items that weren’t on the menu.
This resurrected his foul mood. Desperate, I requested that he let me choose
his party’s dinner menu. Warily, he agreed. Thankfully, his family genuinely
enjoyed food they never would have had if left to their own devices. Through
the redemptive power of food to transcend communication gaps and cultural
divides, a sea of angry faces transformed into a pond that reflected the
joy that great food conveys.
So perhaps the next wave of the world’s diplomats are toiling in the kitchens and eateries of the world even as I write this. And all the battle cries will give way to a new phrase that signifies an emerging global community—“Dinner is served!” Then again, maybe next time when I participate in some historically accurate reenactment, our efforts will rewrite history.
Michael Raysses is a writer/actor/National Public Radio commentator who lives in Los Angeles. His email address is MichaelRaysses@Hotmail.com.