March 2007Archives

This time of year finds me on the treadmill in the mornings, futzing around the gym, taking walks around the neighborhood, eating lots of grilled chicken salads. I'm in training -- not for the recent Los Angeles Marathon, but for the marathon weekend in May when my wife and I travel to another city with several like-minded couples without our kids to spend time listening to music and eating, eating, eating. New Orleans is a favorite destination; this year, for a change, we are headed to Vegas.

The research begins months before: Where to eat, what dishes to order, what's new, what's worth revisiting. Can we sneak one more meal in between lunch and dinner? A palate-cleanser? We savor every bite, from the food stands and lunch joints to the fancy and not-so-fancy dinners. I know you're thinking: "That's not healthy!" But it sure is fun.

I may practice Judaism, but I observe Foodie-ism. And Foodie-ism is becoming less and less fun.

Food has become the obsession of an increasingly judgmental nation: We care not just about what we should eat, but what we shouldn't. Adherents of this cult believe that certain foods are inherently good, and others bad. The food police are everywhere, and the political correctness surrounding food has become a topic in recent books from Eric Schlosser's "Fast Food Nation" (Harper Perennial, 2005) to Michael Pollan's "The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals" (Penguin Press, 2006). Foodies appreciate restaurants and chefs much like they once did books or films, and the topic of food now finds its way into discussions of health, medicine, science and travel -- it is all-encompassing.

Within this cult, social status rises and falls on where you shop for your food, how it is prepared and where you and your children eat it.

In his new book, "The Gospel of Food" (Ecco/HarperCollins, $25.95), USC sociology professor Barry Glassner discusses how, in his words, we have created "a religion of eating."

Consider the following: Will eating egg yolks shorten our life? Will drinking pomegranate juice extend it? What makes a restaurant exceptional? When is a cuisine "authentic" and does it matter? What is organic? How is it different from "natural"? Is organic or natural produce fresher, healthier, better? Or is it just more expensive?

Increasingly, we define who we are by where and what we eat.

I have often wondered why I am supposed to be impressed when a friend brags that his toddler enjoys sushi (after all, it's not so unusual in Japan). And I have seen the look of horror on a parent's face when she learns that her child loves McDonald's (particularly if the child went there with the nanny). Is fast food really evil?

Don't pretend that you don't have an opinion. But what you think may not be true. Glassner's book is here to tell us that "everything you think you know about food is wrong."

Recently, over an excellent meal downtown at Zucca Ristorante, which I confess included a shared mushroom pizza, Glassner explained that, "pretty much every prescription of how to eat has huge holes in it."

By eating foods with little taste (such as a boneless, skinless chicken breast with no sauce) are we actually extending our lives, and if so by how much? No one can give an exact number. Are we eating foods that we believe are "good" for us, at the cost of actually enjoying what we eat? On the contrary, Glassner quotes many studies that demonstrate that we absorb more nutrients when we enjoy what we eat.

As Glassner makes clear, the science behind many of these studies is imperfect.

No one food or diet suits every person, just as no study can take into account each subject's genetic history, the way their body absorbs nutrients, their stress and the impact of physical activity in their life. They are just postcards of what we, as a society, are choosing to believe at the moment. It is exactly the kind of topic Glassner loves to explore.

Glassner was born in Roanoke, W. Va., which has a small but tight-knit Jewish community. He attended Northwestern University, graduating with a double major in journalism and sociology, and then received his doctorate in sociology from Washington University in St. Louis. He worked as a journalist for ABC Radio and freelanced for newspapers before returning to academia.

Currently Glassner holds the position of executive vice provost at USC, and he spent six years as the director of the Casden Institute for the study of the Jewish Role in American Life (disclosure: in 2001 Glassner hired me to co-author the institute's first survey).

Glassner is probably best known for appearing in Michael Moore's "Bowling for Columbine" as the voice of reason speaking about "The Culture of Fear," his last book in which, as Entertainment Weekly put it "Glassner lucidly exposes how the media and politicians play to Americans' fears, presenting anomalous incidents as rampant dangers."

He has brought the same approach to the subject of food. Glassner focuses a critical eye on the scientific studies that have sought to demonize foods such as the egg yolk, the potato, cheese or whole milk, and he debunks the doctors, nutritionists and writers who promote what he calls "the gospel of naught -- the view that the worth of a meal lies principally in what it lacks. The less sugar, salt, fat, calories, carbohydrates, preservatives, additives or other suspect stuff, the better the meal."

His conclusion is that "no food is inherently good or bad." Much like the scene in Woody Allen's "Sleeper," we have learned that foods that were thought to be "bad," like chocolate, coffee or wine, have now been found to have health benefits.

Over the course of five years spent on the book, Glassner had some amazing meals, he told me, at some of the country's best restaurants, such as The French Laundry in Napa Valley, Daniel in New York and Spago in Beverly Hills. "The Gospel of Food" explains what makes these restaurants and their chefs great, and also why the reviewers tend to have great meals there (generally the restaurants know who they are and give them better meals).

He also enjoyed a great variety of ethnic cuisines, becoming familiar with the varieties of Thai cuisine, Korean cooking and even a Korean version of Chinese food.

As part of his research, Glassner also talked to food chemists, nutritionists, and business executives in the food industry. In his book Glassner shares with us the surprises he encountered along the way, such as the great chefs working for McDonalds and Burger King; or how natural foods can include "natural" filler, such as wood pulp, and can be more processed than foods that do not carry that label. Similarly, Glassner recounts how Americans spend $2 billion a year on food with added vitamins, minerals or herbs that provide no proven health benefit and may interfere with prescribed drugs.

"I'm interested in where these ideas come from?" Glassner said. "Who benefits from them?"

Would you be shocked, shocked, shocked to learn that the beneficiaries are politicians, advocacy groups, agri-business and product marketers -- each of whom has a large stake in having us behave in a particular way? Glassner details how each profits from a shift in dietary attitudes. Make no mistake: Billions of dollars are at stake in getting us to eat certain products.

Glassner also devotes a chapter to McDonald's and fast food restaurants, which, as the K-Fed Super Bowl ad indicates, are routinely mocked and blamed for everything from obesity to the breakdown of family values. Glassner makes a compelling argument for the value inherent in "value meals" for the poor, the harried, the homeless. And we all know how good the French fries are.

Which brings us to Glassner's final chapter and the question on all our minds: "What made America fat?"

Glassner asks some good questions: In the 1950s, '60s and '70s, the average diet consisted of all the bad foods that we are told not to eat today. (I can still recall the oil sizzling as my mother placed the veal cutlets, soaked in egg and milk and covered in breadcrumbs, in the cast-iron skillet to make my favorite meal of wienerschnitzel). Yet there was no epidemic of obesity. So what changed?

It's not fast food. Glassner shows that the proliferation of fast food establishments preceded the obesity epidemic by a decade.

Glassner suggests one important difference: People smoke less. According to studies cited by Glassner, during the period obesity rates shot up (the 1980s-1990s), the number of smokers declined by a third -- and former smokers on average gain 10 to 20 pounds after quitting. So this may account for some of the national weight gain. Conversely, is it also possible that people stopping smoking is the reason for a decrease in heart disease (as much or more so than eating low fat foods)?

But what about childhood obesity, you may ask.

I asked Glassner this very question. "No question there are more sugary drinks and candies," he said. But the question remains: "What has dramatically changed?" Glassner believes that one big change is that kids today enjoy "a lot less physical activity." One reason for this harkens back to Glassner's last book, "The Culture of Fear"

"Parents are afraid of letting children out of their sight," he said. Decades ago children spent their free time outside playing and exploring. Today overprotective parents are afraid to let their children play by themselves outdoors for fear they will be abducted or be put in harm's way.

Finally, Glassner suggests the possibility that for both adults and children, our culture of diets and diet foods may be responsible. Any diet that restricts certain foods that our body (or our psyche) craves may cause us to binge on them and other foods. Could years of yo-yoing from fad diet to fad diet have resulted in the increase in obesity? As a group of Harvard and Stanford scientists put it: Dieting to control weight is not only ineffective, it may actually promote weight gain. I certainly can believe that.

In my own lifetime, I can recall attempting the Royal Canadian Air Force Diet, the Scarsdale Diet, Atkins, The Zone and the South Beach Diet. I have watched national crazes over grapefruit diets, cabbage diets, even ice cream diets. I have seen waves of food pronouncements on red meat, carbohydrates, dairy products, grains, pastas and fruits and vegetables.

Over the years, I have lost hundreds of pounds -- actually, the same 20 to 30 pounds over and over again. Although rationally I realize that my body is genetically programmed to give me the winning physique of my Eastern European forebears who were short and stout of bearing, I still cling to the notion that there is a better-idealized version of myself to achieve (the only difference being that the weight at which I once began my diet is now the weight that I strive to reach). But given the positive effects of statins on lowering cholesterol, is yo-yo dieting more dangerous than enjoying the foods you like? Where does this leave us?

I am reminded of the old joke about the tenor Luciano Pavarotti, whose doctor tells him to go on a diet. He goes to his favorite trattoria and asks his favorite waiter: "Tell me which is the healthiest sandwich for me to order?"

To which the waiter answers: "Maestro, for you, the healthiest sandwich is ... half a sandwich."

Perhaps it is best to focus on fit, not fat. Although Glassner's book provides no prescription for a healthy diet, when pressed, Glassner answered that in matters of food, "Turns out your mother was right." (I assure you he is referring to his mother, not mine -- mine was getting injections of sheep's urine to lose weight and buttering my bread with cream cheese.)

His recommendation: "Enjoy what you eat; eat moderately, eat your fruits and vegetables."

Or to sum it up in two words: "Eat well."

Good advice that I intend to follow and would like to discuss further, but I have some meals to plan for my Foodie-ism holiday.

Barry Glassner www.barryglassner.com/

The French Laundry www.frenchlaundry.com/tfl/frenchlaundry.htm

Daniel www.danielnyc.com/

Spago www.wolfgangpuck.com/rest/fine/spago/bh/index.php

Tom Teicholz is a film producer in Los Angeles. Everywhere else, he's an author and journalist who has written for The New York Times Sunday Magazine, Interview and The Forward.

A couple of weeks ago I found myself in a seminar room at UCLA's Royce Hall attending a presentation by professor David Shneer of the University of Denver concerning Jewish museums in Los Angeles, a city he calls, "The Newest Jewish City in the World."

As someone who has argued that Los Angeles is the premier Jewish city of the 21st century, I was eager to find academic support for my own theories.

Everyone thinks of New York as the most Jewish city (outside of Israel), and that may be true in terms of population and certain ethnic benchmarks, such as the quality of bagels, number of delis and access to good Chinese food.

However, historically, Jews in New York have been a vibrant minority who, for most of the 20th century, remained outsiders -- only recently reaching the upper echelons of business, politics and society. Growing up in New York, the people I knew were Jewish, but I believed everyone else was not Jewish -- until proven otherwise.

Similarly, it seemed that in order to rise in New York, you had to pass for WASP. Why else would anyone care about Ralph Lifschitz taking the name of Ralph Lauren (and/or snicker about it)? Why, even in this day and age, would Vanity Fair get mileage out of Tory Burch being Jewish?

Los Angeles is the opposite. Although it has its own history of prejudice and restricted clubs, Jews have been part of Los Angeles since its founding (there was a Jewish member of the first city council in 1850). Perhaps it is because Jewish immigrants founded the movie business, but in Los Angeles, I assume everyone is Jewish.

Los Angeles is also the greatest Hispanic city in the United States ... and the greatest African American city ... and the greatest Asian city -- that is part of what makes Los Angeles great, that each person can call the story of Los Angeles his own. However, my experience in Los Angeles is that if you take the most non-Jewish person you know, regardless of race, religion or ethnic origin, inevitably you will run into them at a bar mitzvah only to discover that their spouse, stepparent, grandparent, grandchild or nephew is Jewish, or that they are converting. It's uncanny. Perhaps it is no accident that the Kabbalah Centre chose Los Angeles as its headquarters and launching pad. Madonna as Esther, Demi wearing her red string, Britney wearing her Jewish star -- it's very Los Angeles, no?

But let's return to the more academic approach.

L.A. native Shneer, whose presentation was based on his book "New Jews" co-authored with Caryn Aviv (New York University Press), made the case that historically, mass emigrations of Jews have occurred due to politics or persecution -- consider the Babylonian exile, the expulsion from Spain following the Inquisition, as well as the wave of immigration at the end of 19th century that brought Russian and Eastern European Jews to the United States and South America. This also applies to the flight of Soviet Jews between 1989 and 1991.

By contrast, less studied but equally notable, Shneer argued, were the post-World War II patterns of migration that have led so many Jews to choose to live in Los Angeles. "L.A. is deeply studied among American historians, but little studied among Jewish historians." Shneer said.

Shneer noted that in 1900 the five largest Jewish population centers were New York (500,000), Warsaw (220,000), Chicago (220,000), Budapest (200,000) and Vienna (200,000). In 2000, the top five were: Tel Aviv (2.5 Million), New York (1.9 million), Haifa (655,000), Los Angeles (621,000), and Jerusalem (570,000). Hence the title "Newest Jewish City in the World."

Statistics from the City of Los Angeles reveal that Jewish population jumped from 65,000 in 1930 to 315,000 in 1950 to 565,000 in 2000, at times accounting for 18 percent of the population. (This just refers to the City of Los Angeles, and doesn't include those independently incorporated cities with substantial Jewish populations such as Beverly Hills, West Hollywood or Santa Monica, as well as the Valley communities.) For the purpose of the survey, "Jewish" was self-identified -- so if you said you were Jewish, they took you at your word.

Perhaps we should call Los Angeles "The Chosen City."

Shneer's thesis is that once upon a time synagogues revealed Jews' communal identity, but today for most American Jews, it is through their Jewish museums that they present their identities to the world and themselves. Shneer believes this is particularly true in Los Angeles, as evidenced by the Museum of Tolerance and the Skirball Cultural Center, each of which reveals different attitudes about being Jewish and about the relationship of Jews to the outside world.

The Simon Wiesenthal Center's Museum of Tolerance -- Beit Hashoah (its full name) -- was founded by Orthodox Jews, is closed on Saturdays, is located near the Pico-Robertson neighborhood and houses a yeshiva on its grounds. Given its pedigree and its focus, as found on its Web site, to "confront the dynamic of intolerance that is still embedded in society today," you might think that the content of the museum and its attendees would be overwhelmingly Jewish. Yet the museum exhibitions appear geared to non-Jews, focusing on tolerance and civil rights, and most days bring in a constant stream of inner-city school visits. Shneer argues that the museum's message of tolerance can be interpreted as a manifestation of a contemporary Orthodox attitude: i.e., because we are different, we need to live in a tolerant society.

By contrast, there's the Skirball, which was founded by Reform Jews and is located near Mulholland Drive and the 405, between the assimilated Jewish enclaves of Brentwood and Encino. Open on Saturdays, the center promotes itself as a place to celebrate the connection between Jewish heritage and American democracy. Shneer argues that the Skirball presents a Reform point of view: "of acculturation without assimilation." The message is that we are all Americans, yet -- in contrast to the Museum of Tolerance -- its visitors and the focus of its exhibits are overwhelmingly Jewish.

"Despite its marketing efforts to position itself as a place for everyone," Shneer has written, "the museum is obviously Jewish."

Both of these institutions, in their own way, are temples to Jewish life in Los Angeles.

In the great tradition of two Jews, three opinions, it should come as no surprise that Shneer's seminar had its share of dissenters. David N. Myers, director of UCLA's Center for Jewish Studies, for one, suggested that Shneer's distinctions were simplistic and that the two institutions could just as easily be seen as presenting two differing narratives of the Jewish experience, one lachrymose (the Museum of Tolerance), the other triumphalist (The Skirball).

At the same time, Tal Gozani, the Skirball's associate curator, noted that the Skirball has evolved since Shneer's research concluded in 2003. She also pointed out that the Skirball's permanent and temporary art exhibitions are but one facet of an institution that offers music, dance, film and spoken-word performances. In July, the Skirball will open an ambitious "Noah's Ark" family gallery, Gozani said, which will engage children in many subjects, including zoology and the environment, but which, save its name, will offer up no specific Jewish religious references from the Torah.

Shneer responded that both Myers and Gozani's comments on the respective institutions were, in fact, completely in keeping with their origins -- a view of Jewish history as a litany of persecutions is congruent with an Orthodox interpretation, while treating Noah's Ark as a "flood narrative with counterparts in many cultures" sounded like a Reform approach.

For my part, I saw in Shneer's comments a greater truth and a greater challenge than even he acknowledged.

Los Angeles is not only a city where Jews present their identity through Jewish museums; it is also a place where Jews have had an unparalleled role in shaping the cultural identity of the city. Jews here have been instrumental in establishing the majority of the city's art museums, including a significant number serving as trustees and professional leaders at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, the Norton Simon Museum, the Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA) and UCLA's Hammer Museum. Jews have also played a role at The Getty Trust under the stewardship of Harold Williams and Barry Munitz. Add to that Eli Broad's role in the construction of Walt Disney Concert Hall, and as a founding trustee at MOCA, as well as the donor of $50 million to build the Broad Contemporary Art Museum, still under construction at LACMA, and a remarkable portrait of the "Newest Jewish City" emerges.

Still, I was struck by Shneer's remark that "synagogues used to be the places in which Jews constituted their communal Jewish identities."

He's right, of course. It used to be that if you were a big shot, you gave to the synagogue.

"If I were a rich man," sang Tevye, I would "have a seat by the eastern wall." Which led me to think: Why does each Jewish billionaire need his own museum? When being Jewish is part of the culture, what if culture (and the cultured) returned the favor?

Why can't Jewish synagogues also be showcases for culture?

Imagine, for a moment if you will, if Broad, who is reportedly going to help underwrite a multi-multimillion dollar Jeff Koons sculpture of a life-size functioning steam train engine that would hang from a crane in front of the entrance to LACMA, were to give $50 million to the renovation and restoration of the Wilshire Boulevard Temple (which I have been told has the second-best acoustics in Los Angeles, after Disney Hall).

How many temples could be restored, how many liturgical, musical and cultural programs could be funded by David Geffen, Mike Ovitz, Marcia Weisman and the host of other big museum donors and creators.

Audrey Wilder just gave $5 million to create the Billy Wilder Theater at the Hammer Museum; what if, instead, that theater was just down the road at Sinai Temple? More recently, Sheldon Adelson, of the Las Vegas-based Sands corporation, pledged $25 million a year for the next several years to support the Birthright program sending youths to Israel, and, in December, rumors were flying that he was planning to give as much as $200 million annually to support Israel and foster Jewish culture. He denied the rumors, and no such announcement has been made -- but, as is often the case in Hollywood, I believe the rumors will, in time, prove true. If they do, will any of these dollars go to support Jewish culture at American synagogues? (And equally important will any of it go to supporting Tommywood? Not completely on point -- but I couldn't resist.)

In Los Angeles, "the Newest Jewish City," Jews are shaping the culture, and their Jewish museums are shaping our notions of Judaism in American culture. Can Jewish culture also play a role in revitalizing our temples?

To quote Lerner and Loewe (whom you may assume were Jewish): "Wouldn't it be loverly?"

Tom Teicholz is a film producer in Los Angeles. Everywhere else, he's an author and journalist who has written for The New York Times Sunday Magazine, Interview and The Forward. His column appears every other week.