Jamie Oliver vs. poverty as "the world of 'no'"

I like Jamie Oliver, on the whole. Yes, occasionally I find him annoying, but no more than any other artificially chirpy, positive people with mockney accents. But somewhere along the way, his passion for good, fresh food – admirable and infectious in every respect – appears to have transformed into evangelical life-coaching. In the words of Albert Camus, he seems "to have dispensed with generosity in order to practise charity".

"I'm not judgmental", he says in his recent Radio Times interview. If only that were true, of course, it would signal the end of the interview. He continues "but I've spent a lot of time in poor communities, and I find it quite hard to talk about modern-day poverty. You might remember that scene in Ministry of Food, with the mum and the kid eating chips and cheese out of Styrofoam containers, and behind them is a massive fucking TV. It just didn't weigh up."

I have had the misfortune and privilege (mixed in both cases) to exist in affluent and destitute circumstances – and every shade between the two. However much time Oliver has spent in "poor communities", he is but a tourist there, looking at fire walkers and whirling dervishes and wondering "why on earth would they choose to do that?"; taking snapshots for his album and reducing entire lives to captured instances of chips and giant tellies.

What I had not understood before I found myself in true poverty, and what Oliver probably does not, is that it means living in a world of "no". Ninety-nine per cent of what you need is answered "no". Ninety-nine per cent of what your kids ask for is answered "no". Ninety-nine per cent of life is answered "no". Cinema? No. Night out? No. New shoes? No. Birthday? No. So, if the only indulgence that is viable, that is within budget, that will not mean you have to walk to work, is a Styrofoam container of cheesy chips, the answer is a thunderous "YES".

When their daily entertainment consists of sitting in a 4ft by 6ft semi-basement living room watching TV, you can rest assured people will make any sacrifice they must to at least get "a massive fucking TV". In a world of "no", you are grateful for every "yes", no matter how illogical or how unhealthy. "When I was poor, I smoked," said a friend recently, "but that was all I had for me. Cigarettes were the only thing I owned. I was a non-person."

But I have been on the other side as well. The side where well-off, middle-class people are apparently sensible with how they spend their hard-earned money. The side where people like Jamie, Delia and Nigella club together with lucrative sponsors to explain what the latest must-have item is. Produce with pedigree. Vinegars with vintages. Olive oils with lineage. Pasta-makers, steamers, woks, griddle pans, copper pots, juicers, egg timers, skillets, multi-mixes, palette knives, frothers, basters and thermometers gathering dust in countless attics. The evidence of my lack of thrift and the source of Oliver's fortune, neatly out of sight so that he cannot judge my life on a surprise inspection.

Ben_Reilly wrote:Thought this column made some great points. Growing up, my family sometimes lived in low-rent apartments, or trailer houses, or motel rooms, or (for a few bad weeks) basically in our car. We eventually pulled ourselves up a bit, but you never get over some parts of it, like thinking that every time you get a little extra money you have to run out and buy something cool with it -- almost like you're trying to prove you can to the rest of the world.

Basically, people who have money don't realize what it's like to not have money but live in a world that seems to be all about having money:

I like Jamie Oliver, on the whole. Yes, occasionally I find him annoying, but no more than any other artificially chirpy, positive people with mockney accents. But somewhere along the way, his passion for good, fresh food – admirable and infectious in every respect – appears to have transformed into evangelical life-coaching. In the words of Albert Camus, he seems "to have dispensed with generosity in order to practise charity".

"I'm not judgmental", he says in his recent Radio Times interview. If only that were true, of course, it would signal the end of the interview. He continues "but I've spent a lot of time in poor communities, and I find it quite hard to talk about modern-day poverty. You might remember that scene in Ministry of Food, with the mum and the kid eating chips and cheese out of Styrofoam containers, and behind them is a massive fucking TV. It just didn't weigh up."

I have had the misfortune and privilege (mixed in both cases) to exist in affluent and destitute circumstances – and every shade between the two. However much time Oliver has spent in "poor communities", he is but a tourist there, looking at fire walkers and whirling dervishes and wondering "why on earth would they choose to do that?"; taking snapshots for his album and reducing entire lives to captured instances of chips and giant tellies.

What I had not understood before I found myself in true poverty, and what Oliver probably does not, is that it means living in a world of "no". Ninety-nine per cent of what you need is answered "no". Ninety-nine per cent of what your kids ask for is answered "no". Ninety-nine per cent of life is answered "no". Cinema? No. Night out? No. New shoes? No. Birthday? No. So, if the only indulgence that is viable, that is within budget, that will not mean you have to walk to work, is a Styrofoam container of cheesy chips, the answer is a thunderous "YES".

When their daily entertainment consists of sitting in a 4ft by 6ft semi-basement living room watching TV, you can rest assured people will make any sacrifice they must to at least get "a massive fucking TV". In a world of "no", you are grateful for every "yes", no matter how illogical or how unhealthy. "When I was poor, I smoked," said a friend recently, "but that was all I had for me. Cigarettes were the only thing I owned. I was a non-person."

But I have been on the other side as well. The side where well-off, middle-class people are apparently sensible with how they spend their hard-earned money. The side where people like Jamie, Delia and Nigella club together with lucrative sponsors to explain what the latest must-have item is. Produce with pedigree. Vinegars with vintages. Olive oils with lineage. Pasta-makers, steamers, woks, griddle pans, copper pots, juicers, egg timers, skillets, multi-mixes, palette knives, frothers, basters and thermometers gathering dust in countless attics. The evidence of my lack of thrift and the source of Oliver's fortune, neatly out of sight so that he cannot judge my life on a surprise inspection.

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2013/aug/27/jamie-oliver-poverty-ready-meals-tv

Ben_Reilly wrote:So I gather you don't care for Jamie Oliver?  

veya_victaous wrote:very boring English food that is tasteless, once you're exposed to the flavours of Asia and India

veya_victaous wrote:Jamie looks sick, or is it just the unhealthy English pallor?    

His Aussie one was laughable, he suggested very boring English food that is tasteless, once you're exposed to the flavours of Asia and India, and not really suitable for our Climate.

veya_victaous wrote:@CATMAN
HA we don’t have to have lost anything for Me to Vilify and Englishman :twisted:being half French half Aussie means that one thing both sides of me agree on :P:P:P

Ahh the English Roast or as I like to call it the Old 'Meat and Heat' school of cooking

All in Jest, but I happen to have a running gag with an English decent friend about his nations terrible culinary skills