Wednesday, 24 March 2010

Food Tech

It's Food Tech at school today.
That's what they call it these days. It's always had a fancy name though, hasn't it?
When I was at school they called it Home Economics. As if inserting the word "Economics" would suddenly put your slightly soggy apple crumble on an academic par with an essay on the distribution of wealth in East African dictatorships.
It didn't fool anyone. You don't ever meet posh people who boast that they went to the London School of Home Economics, do you? You don't even meet chefs who went there. Or school dinner ladies.
Anyway, the word "Economics" is no longer good enough. For some reason kids consider it a bit... well... boring. Education today is all about sending the kids home feeling inspired. And, let's face it, it takes more than the word "Economics" to sex up a home made Lasagne.
Today's world is all about Technology. iPods. Internet. Mobile phones. MSN. Facebook. YouTube. These form the fabric of the teenager's universe. Technology is exciting to young people because they understand that every new advance gives them more opportunities to share information and ideas, comment on the adult world they're about to enter into, and laugh at videos of monkeys riding on motor scooters.
So, educational administrators have abandoned Economics and jumped aboard the Technology bandwagon. Food Tech. Genius!
I can only think that Economists must feel shattered by this fickle rejection. As if the poor sods don't have enough to deal with. First world poverty. Then a global recession. Now this.
But, if their loss of association with "Food Tech" is getting them down, they can always console themselves with this thought - it's only cooking.
That's essentially what it is. Cooking. And that's all it ever was.
Back in the 80s, there was never any Economics involved in it (apart from your Mum looking at the list of ingredients and saying, "How the hell am I supposed to afford this bloody lot?").
And today there is no actual Technology involved. (And no, talking about vitamins and nutrition isn't technology. And neither is turning on an oven.)
OK. Let's cut through the bull - let's talk about what Food Tech (or Cooking) really involves. The teacher comes up with a recipe, including a list of ingredients. This list of ingredients usually contains something weird like "lime curd" that nobody sells. The night before the lesson - usually about 9pm on a Sunday - your son or daughter gives you the list of ingredients and asks you to provide them.
At this point it is customary for the parent to swear a lot, exclaiming, "What the hell is Key Lime Pie anyway?" and launching into a diatribe, making all the points I have covered in the first few paragraphs of this post.
You then go to every late night Spar or Co-op in the area looking for Lime Curd, wondering how kids get on if their parents don't drive, or are poor, or just couldn't give a monkey's.
Eventually you get everything together, wedge it in a bag with a tin and a ceramic dish and present it to your son/daughter to take to school. The bag now weighs roughly the same as a small car. Your child grumbles as they sling it over their shoulder - the spare shoulder that is not already carrying the PE kit and the trombone. And you watch them stagger up the road under their burden, worrying about the back problems they will develop in later life, and wondering what state the Key Lime Pie will be in by the time it arrives home.
I'm glad to say that Brady Jr will be dropping Food Tech when she chooses her options this year. I can't wait.
I think it's good for kids to learn to cook. But why do parents have to buy all the ingredients? And why do kids have to carry them? There's a kitchen at school that orders food in bulk every day. Can't they just add a few extra things to the order?
And it's not Food Tech. It's Cooking. OK?
It's got sod all to do with technology. Let's face it, they don't even have the technology to order a few extra tubs of Lime Curd.

1 comment:

Sam Brady Stand-up Comedian said...

It turns out Key Lime pie is really nice. Even without the lime curd.