(image by avlxyz via flickr)

A while back, I was discussing food with a close friend of my older sister, a teacher and mom whom I’ll call “Kathleen”. Kathleen mentioned liking Rachael Ray, and I expressed the opposite opinion. I am happy to tell anyone who asks that the diabolically perky RR does nothing for cooking as an art form, and that I do not use her cookbooks because she has the temerity to make lasagna out of ravioli.

Kathleen then asked for my opinion on a Kraft Parmesan product that she said came with its own disposable grater, and asked whether I thought that it was a good idea. I said that it would be better to use a real grater, and buy cheese from cows who enjoyed a good quality of life. I was passionate about the subject matter. I did not realize until later that my words might have been, well, a trifle obnoxious.

Our family photo albums contain pictures of me with Kathleen when I was a toddling little thing. Was this any way for me to be treating her? Shouldn’t I encourage her first steps rather than deriding them? My knee-jerk reaction to Rachael Ray and Kraft Parmesan was the same kind of overbearing behavior that I find abrasive in others: the tunnel-vision zeal of the long-time purist. I’m especially galled with myself because I’ve often given up on making changes when I felt I couldn’t compete with the examples of folks more hardcore than myself.

I recall an interview with Alice Waters where she went on and on about how much she loves growing and washing lettuce, and how everybody ought to personally grow and wash lots of lettuce. But I hate washing lettuce. Any one minute that I spend washing lettuce is exactly the same as any other minute that I spend washing lettuce. I wanted to go spitefully eat fast food in front of her. I love the greenmarket, but if I had hours of extra time in my week, I wouldn’t devote them to lettuce. I’d probably read.

What business does Alice Waters have expecting me to wash lettuce all the time? Even though I admire her catalytic role in improving the American palate, in that moment I resented her. People like her dedicate a lot of energy to creating resources that make it easier for a wider range of people to participate in positive societal changes, and they care a lot about what they do. But sometimes, purists trip on the line between advice and lecturing.

Purists may not realize how alienating they can be. When a beginner asks for facts or guidance and the purist tells him that he isn’t doing enough, it can be very discouraging. And this kind of harping isn’t confined to the environmental activity or local foods; purists can alienate the curious in any potentially fulfilling activity that involves a degree of thought or time commitment, including most forms of community, religious, or political participation.

So, after my conversation with Kathleen and the realization that I was not helping, I’m doing my best to remember that I ultimately have a more positive effect when I encourage rather than condescend. When we find ourselves in the role of advice-giver, we would be well-served to remember how it feels to be a beginner. And surely, we are all beginners depending on who we compare ourselves to; there’s always someone more hard-core.

Kathleen, if you’re reading, I’m sorry! I’m really passionate about food, and I allowed it to make me a little blind to the fact that you are rightly taking steps according to your schedule rather than mine. Please forgive me, and allow me to have you over for lasagna sometime to make it up to you.