The Cultural Impulse
The Influence of Tradition and Belief on Food Choice
“What I've enjoyed most, though, is meeting people who have a real interest in food and sharing ideas with them. Good food is a global thing and I find that there is always something new and amazing to learn – I love it!”
- Jamie Oliver
Cast your mind back – possibly not that far – to when you last ate at a restaurant or ordered your favourite takeaway. If you live in a country like the UK, I’m betting you gave little more than a benign acknowledgement as to where the style of cuisine originated … or, at least, where it was supposed to have come from. From goulash to dahl, tacos to sushi, mielie meal to Yorkshire pudding and pizza to skyr, take a short trip to the supermarket and you can “travel” the culinary world to experience a multitude of dishes prepared and served in a myriad of ways. How much the food in front of you truly resembles a traditional meal is certainly questionable, of course: most likely what you’ve been served has the chef’s flair and a style that suits the taste of the local market rather than its stated culture of origin.
When it comes to influencing our choice of sustenance, food culture is so much more than a recipe. The way food is stored, prepared, presented and served, how and when it’s eaten and who it’s eaten with, all reflect the influence of culture on why we eat what we eat. Food culture shapes our biology, beginning with our flavour preferences being heavily influenced by what we were fed when we were growing up. Our tastes might change as we get older, but the cultural impulse of food choice is first laid down during childhood.
What Is Culture?
To understand how human culture influences what humans eat, first let’s consider what we mean by “culture”. Etymologically, the word is directly linked to the acquisition of food. Its early origins include “the tilling of land; act of preparing the earth for crops”; “a cultivating, agriculture”; “to tend, guard; to till, cultivate”; and “the cultivation or rearing of a crop, act of promoting growth in plants” [1].
Agustín Fuentes, Professor of Anthropology at the University of Notre Dame, feels that the term is surprisingly misunderstood. In his book Why We Believe, Fuentes describes culture as both a product of human actions and something that shapes those actions. It is the framework, the milieu, that embodies and gives meaning to our experiences in the world. Many people think of culture as the opposite of biology, as in “nature versus nurture” [2], but human culture lies at the core of human experience, and the two are inextricably linked. Fuentes settles on a definition made in 1952 by anthropologist Alfred Kroeber and sociologist Clyde Kluckhohn. Kroeber and Kluckhohn meticulously reviewed 164 definitions and subsequently synthesised them into one concept, including, with relevance here, “Culture consists of patterns, explicit and implicit, of and for behaviour acquired and transmitted by symbols, constituting the distinctive achievement of human groups … the essential core of culture consists of traditional (i.e. historically derived and selected) ideas and especially their attached values …” [3].
The Italian historian Massimo Montanari, in Food Is Culture, described culture in relation to what we eat: “What we call culture takes its place where tradition and innovation intersect” [4]. Tradition is itself an innovation: arguably the most successful one in history. Culture, through slow incremental processes linked to evolution, has helped humans reconcile our needs with what nature has had to offer during times when food was harder to acquire. From this, food culture has evolved into so much more.
When Did Food Culture Begin?
The impact of those around us on our choice of sustenance has been an influence for much of human prehistory. Although in early hunter-gatherer tribes the exploitation of limited natural resources meant our ancestors were limited in their food choice, methods of food preparation and sharing differed between tribes. Montanari notes that the transition from a hunting economy to one of production represented a decisive change both in the relationship between man and land and in human culture [5]. Since the advent of farming, agrarian societies have spread across the globe with a concomitant growth in populations warranting the necessity to produce increasingly larger quantities of food. As societies progressed, they produced their own food based on available resources, moving towards an environmental equilibrium pertinent to the region. Through diversification and the expansion of settlements into cities that were built adjacent to farmland, local agriculture adapted to suit the preference of the local community which led to changes in the landscape and local ecosystem. The effects of culture on nature are bilateral.
It is, of course, hard to provide strong evidence as to the extent of the influences of history’s diverse cultures on what we eat today. Cultures can’t fossilise and the evidence is limited to little more than interesting artefacts excavated from archaeological digs. We can, however, explore different places and learn the eating behaviours of modern cultures, while being mindful that they are likely quite different to prior cultures of that region. Moreover, for some dating back a few thousand years, we have reliable records providing reasonably strong indications as to how ancestral cultures behaved when it came to how they acquired, stored, prepared and consumed their food. Otherwise, evidence is limited to that provided by the insufficiently reliable teachings and cultural memes passed down from generation to generation, while being mindful that information can be corrupted over time.
The ability to manipulate fire to cook food provided the original basis for all human cultures. It’s thought that humans started to use fire daily around 400,000 years ago [6]. However, there was likely a culture of sorts dating possibly right back to early hominids, evidenced by differences in behaviours between different chimpanzee groups [7]. Early stone tools dating to 3.3 million years ago have been attributed to Australopithecus afarensis [8]. Eating together is a form of sharing resources, a practice that would have been hugely advantageous for our ancestors. Hunting, gathering and food preparation involved the use of stone tools, and by 1.6 million years ago, members of our genus were using them regularly. It’s reasonable to attribute signs of cultural food practices to around the time of the Acheulean tradition – a period that constituted a veritable revolution in stone age technology [9]. We have fossil evidence that by 500,000 years ago, ancestral humans were creating beautiful, highly symmetrical, stylised cutting and chopping tools, showing a level of creativity that surpassed any functional need [10]. By this time, evidence of food culture is indisputable.
Survival Through Belief
Before nutrition science was able to advise us what we should and shouldn’t eat, we relied on traditions born out of cultural beliefs. As Michael Pollan says in Food Rules: An Eater’s Manual:
“We know there is a deep reservoir of food wisdom out there, or else humans would not have survived and prospered to the extent we have. This dietary wisdom is the distillation of an evolutionary process involving many people in many places figuring out what keeps people healthy (and what doesn’t), and passing the knowledge down in the form of food habits and combinations, manners and rules and taboos, and everyday and seasonal practices, as well as memorable sayings and adages” [11].
The influence of religion on food choice has been vast. Specific foods in certain religions have been treated as sacred, sometimes for very good reason. Before scientific knowledge, our ancestors relied on food-related behaviours by way of religious doctrines. These practices were passed down through the generations and provided distinct survival advantages. For instance, the traditional Jewish kashrut cultural practice includes the rule that meat and dairy should not be stored together, served at the same meal or involve using the same utensils: a sensible rule that benefited and protected its adherents. Before we had milk pasteurisation and home freezers, there was a high risk of spoilage and food poisoning from consuming animal products. Why risk cross-contamination of an expensive and scarce resource?
In Islam, halal slaughter allows for maximal drainage of blood and reduces the risk of blood-borne diseases being transferred. It also gives halal meat a longer shelf life. Similarly, prohibiting the consumption of pig meat, carrion or carnivorous animals – creatures that themselves may have eaten an infected animal – prevents a contagion being passed to an unsuspecting diner [12].
These days, the food we eat is protected by strict food safety laws which minimise the risk of catching a disease from contaminated foods. Modern storage technologies allow food to have an extended shelf life, meaning that many food beliefs are now obsolete. Yet many traditions remain in place today and continue to affect the food choices of even those who aren’t devout followers of the religion.
Cultural Food Processing
When people hear the term “processed food”, they might think of meals served in plastic trays ready to be nuked in the microwave for a few minutes or junk food snacks laden with additives. While some processed foods certainly lack optimal nutrition, too often we’re fed an unnecessarily negative perspective of processed foods, as discussed in A Processed Mindset. Our food has been subjected to some level of processing for thousands of years. Members of our species were processing grains by grinding them between two stones – the process we call “milling” – as far back as 30,000 years ago [13]. Indeed, as the heating of food is essentially a process, one could argue that we’ve been “processing” our food for 400,000 years. Food processing has been integral to human evolution.
Many historical cultural food-processing methods are still practised today. In rural South America, for example, some communities still experience pellagra, a condition associated with a deficiency of niacin (vitamin B3). Symptoms of pellagra include inflamed skin, mouth sores, diarrhoea and dementia. In these regions, maize is a staple food for many. Some grains, such as maize, need to be processed through nixtamalisation, which involves the grain being soaked and cooked in limewater (the mineral lime, not the fruit) and then hulled. The tough husks are broken down by the alkaline solution, and this makes the niacin bioavailable for absorption in the intestines. Nixtamalisation is a crucial process in the production of tortillas, hominy and other maize-based breads, foods traditional to many South American cultures, and where these are regular staples, pellagra has been prevented [14].
Spicy Influences
We’re conditioned to favour foods based on our childhood preferences, as illustrated when a child in a certain culture acquires particular tastes and desires and declines foods prepared in the style of another culture. For example, children from tropical areas who’ve been raised on certain spicy foods embedded in their local traditions adapt to tolerate these strongly seasoned foods. The consumption of spicy foods is associated with cultures rooted in hotter regions, and adults raised in more temperate zones, unaccustomed to foods prepared with such pungent spices, may find them unpleasant or even intolerable. The addition of some spices to foods has an antimicrobial effect, helping to prevent food spoilage and to provide some protection to the human digestive system as a way of possibly mitigating the risk of bacterial or parasitic illness. This adaptation has been vital for those who reside in regions with higher incidence of pathogenic diseases. These stomach-led culinary customs may have helped to ward off food poisoning [15].
These sorts of evolutionary adaptations are an example of something known as “Darwinian gastronomy”, culinary behaviours that have provided a reproductive advantage [16]. The historical importance of the antimicrobial effects of spices in hotter climates is part of a wider cultural influence. For example, spicy foods can trigger a temporary increase in metabolic rate giving a small rise in body temperature which, in turn, stimulates sweating, helping us to cool off in hotter temperatures [17]. Thus, spicy foods have two seemingly unrelated functions for those living in hot climates: they stave off bacterial infections and help to keep people cool. Moreover, hot weather suppresses our appetite and adding spices to food stimulates our biological responses to food cues by making meals more flavoursome and interesting, increasing our appetite for them. The effects of cultural tradition validate the choice of ingredients, and the characteristic flavours associated with each culinary cuisine has helped to prevent food from becoming boring.
In more temperate climates, the use of salt has emerged as a dominant preservation method, as most microbes can’t survive salty environments. In colder regions, food preservation is easier through natural refrigeration from the cold weather, and in hotter climates, traditionally meat was smoked and then dried in the heat to help preserve it. The salting of food has been practised for millennia, a discovery mainly attributed to the ancient Egyptians, though residents of the Shanxi province in China were fighting wars over salt reserves from the salt lake Yuncheng as early as 6000 BCE [18]. One of the reasons why the salting of food is still widespread today is that many human populations have evolved to favour salt flavours. This provides another example of Darwinian gastronomy. We taste salt and our brains are informed that the food is safe for us to eat. These adaptive mechanisms that involve our physiologies, habits, cultural beliefs and emotional attachments to food help to explain, in part, why we have flavour preferences for certain foods and culinary customs. Reminded by our biologies, we remember which foods we ate were safe, nutritious and, above all, pleasurable.
From Boiling to Barbecues
The various ways in which our predecessors cooked their food didn’t just differ by geography; the methods used were also linked to class and gender. Take, for instance, cultural differences related to the roasting and boiling of meat in the late Middle Ages. The aristocracy preferred roasted meat, whereas peasants would be more likely to boil their meat in a pot. Hunting was a pastime enjoyed by the powerful, and roasting the day’s kill over a fire was part of the event. Boiling meat often involved a large pot heated over an indoor kitchen fire. This process allowed the nutritive juices of the meat to be retained in the water, which could then be consumed later with vegetables or as a nutritious broth. The poor couldn’t afford to waste a drop as they often had large families, and food was hard to come by [19]. Even up until the mid-20th century, class differences in the way food was cooked were still very apparent, and it was really only when the majority of Western household kitchens included an oven, stove, grill and, more recently still, a microwave that a range of cooking options were available to nearly everyone.
Traditionally, boiling and roasting have also been linked to gender differences. Heating food in a pot of boiling water is a practice historically associated with the kitchen. In the Middle Ages, the centrepiece of a household kitchen was a fireplace with a large cooking pot suspended overhead. Until just a few decades ago, the kitchen was seen as “mother’s territory”. The pot would be used to cook all the ingredients of a meal’s recipe – the meat, vegetables and seasonings – together. Conversely, the roasting of an animal over an open fire conjures up impressions of machoness. Following a successful hunt, images of a burly man chopping wood for a fire and visions of him stoking the blaze, a skewered carcass spit-roasting above. This expression of virility is born out of its brutal simplicity: a rugged man displaying mastery over natural forces. Now picture the modern Western analogy: an apron-wearing “man of the house” performing the “macho” task of mastering the natural forces of the suburban barbecue as he stands in front of the grill, stainless steel tongs held firmly in hand, performing the simple undertaking of occasionally turning ready-sliced meat [20]. The acquisition of this “kill” was likely considerably easier, involving him “hunting” for the most succulent-looking steaks in the chilled section of a supermarket. And wood foraging? Picking up a bag of charcoal from his local DIY store, or, more likely, the mere turning on of a canister of patio gas!
Cultural Values and Why We Eat What We Eat
Traditional food cultures have one thing in common: they all focus on the need to cook fresh and local ingredients. The modern western diet doesn’t need to rely on local produce due to modern technologies in food production and storage. Consequently, many of us have never become acquainted with much of the traditionality, love and socially oriented aspects of eating. Fast food, snacks, eating on the go, food trends, short-term gratification and gluttony have become the basis of modern western food culture. Cultural effects aren’t limited to meal choice but also to the way in which we eat our food. Our mindsets in relation to food have been disrupted by the fast-paced environment in which we live. The result? We’ve lost touch of much of the connectedness associated with food and traditional cultures.
Through culture, the foods we eat and how we eat them are associated with our identity. In the pre-modern era, identity was often related to class distinctions: meals signified the social class to which someone belonged. Class distinctions are much less prevalent today, and our cultural food identity is more linked to regional differences. Food acts as a lexicon for our values: what we eat is an expression of our identity in relation to our cultural beliefs. Humans have learned to form associations with taste, smell, texture, temperature and appearance of food and the subjective pleasure we acquire from eating certain foods. We attribute value to what we eat and update our experiences in relation to our food preferences. The effect is particularly strong in children, demonstrating the influence that the food culture in which we’re raised has on our future choices. A 2019 paper explored the cross-cultural effects of emotional links and food product familiarity in two populations: Asian and Western. Familiarity was positively associated with sensory preference, and food stimuli affected the physiological responses of consumers for both cultures. In respect of a food’s temperature, Asian participants elicited higher values [21]. These findings help us understand that what we find acceptable is based on both sensory and physiological responses.
Value-based belief systems influence what we choose to eat. This is illustrated by certain religious practices. Another value-based belief is veganism. Here, the avoidance of all animal products is not limited to what’s eaten, but also to the use or consumption of any animal-derived products including clothing or in other ways. The Vegan Society define veganism as “a philosophy and way of living which seeks to exclude – as far as is possible and practicable – all forms of exploitation of, and cruelty to, animals for food, clothing or any other purpose; and by extension, promotes the development and use of animal-free alternatives for the benefit of animals, humans and the environment. In dietary terms, it denotes the practice of dispensing with all products derived wholly or partly from animals” [22]. Should veganism be viewed as a culture? Referring to how food culture was defined earlier, it certainly could be.
Next time you’re in your local supermarket, pause for a moment and absorb the vast vista of foods available. You’ll notice foods with origins from all over the world. The numerous junk foods designed to tantalise our brains. The uncountable delicacies available are each presented in attractive and purposely designed enticing packaging. Others have been designed to accommodate the latest health trend or perceived “naturalness”. The modern Western way of eating is a hybrid of multiple influences on food choice, and one could be forgiven for claiming that such a diet is devoid of culture. But this is not the case. This hybrid style of eating is the culture of modern western society. We live in a culture of food cues.
References:
1. Online Etymology Dictionary (n.d.) Culture (n.). Available at: https://www.etymonline.com/word/culture#etymonline_v_452 (Accessed: 5 February 2025).
2. Fuentes, A. (2020) Why We Believe: Evolution and the Human Way of Being, London: Yale University Press, p80.
3. Kroeber, A. L. and Kluckhohn, C. (1952) Culture: A Critical Review of Concepts and Definitions, Cambridge, MA: Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology.
4. Montanari, M. (2004) Food Is Culture (English translation 2006), New York: Columbia University Press, p7.
5. ibid (4) p3.
6. Roebroeks, W. and Villa, P. (2011) ‘On the Earliest Evidence for Habitual Use of Fire in Europe’, Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 108(13), 5209-14.
7. Whiten, A. et al. (1999) ‘Cultures in Chimpanzees’, Nature, 399, 682-5.
8. Harmand, S. et al. (2015) ‘3.3-Million-Year-Old Stone Tools from Lomekwi 3, West Turkana, Kenya’, Nature, 521, 310-5.
9. Ellsworth, R. (2008) Oldowan and Acheulean Stone Tools. Museum of Anthropology. Available at: https://anthromuseum.missouri.edu/e-exhibits/oldowan-and-acheulean-stone-tools (Accessed: 5 February 2025).
10. Key, A. J. M. and Dunmore, C. J. (2018) ‘Manual Restrictions on Palaeolithic Technological Behaviours’, PeerJ, 6, e539.
11. Pollan, M. (2009) Food Rules: An Eater’s Manual, London: Penguin, p xvii.
12. Harris, M. (1987) The Sacred Cow and the Abominable Pig: Riddles of Food and Culture, Guildford: Touchstone Books, pp67-87.
13. Revedin, A. et al. (2010) ‘Thirty Thousand-Year-Old Evidence of Plant Food Processing’, Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 107(44), 18815-9.
14. Clay, K. et al. (2018) The Rise and Fall of Pellagra in the American South. NBER Working Paper No. w23730. Available at: https://www.nber.org/system/files/working_papers/w23730/w23730.pdf (Accessed: 5 February 2025).
15. (a) Westerterp-Plantenga, M. et al. (2006) ‘Metabolic Effects of Spices, Teas, and Caffeine’, Physiology & Behavior, 89(1), 85-91; (b) Whiting, S. et al. (2012) ‘Capsaicinoids and Capsinoids. A Potential Role for Weight Management? A Systematic Review of the Evidence’, Appetite, 59(2), 341-48.
16. (a) Billing, J. and Sherman, P. W. (1998) ‘Antimicrobial Functions of Spices: Why Some Like It Hot’, Quarterly Review of Biology, 73(1), 3-49; (b) Sherman, P. W. and Billing, J. (1999) ‘Darwinian Gastronomy: Why We Use Spices: Spices Taste Good Because They Are Good for Us’, BioScience, 49(6), pp453-63.
17. ibid (16a).
18. Butler, S. (2018) ‘Off the Spice Rack: The Story of Salt’, History, 22 August. Available at: https://www.history.com/news/off-the-spice-rack-the-story-of-salt (Accessed: 5 February 2025).
19. ibid (4) pp47-50.
20. ibid (4) pp47-50.
21. Torrico, D. D. et al. (2019) ‘Cross-Cultural Effects of Food Product Familiarity on Sensory Acceptability and Non-Invasive Physiological Responses of Consumers’, Food Research International, 115, 439-50.
22. The Vegan Society (n.d.) Definition of Veganism. Available at: https://www.vegansociety.com/go-vegan/definition-veganism (Accessed: 5 February 2025).