One of the most notable phenomena that occurs where food and cooking are concerned is the tendency to focus on the genius of the people behind the dish. Take The Bear, for example. Sure, it has done a lot to get people interested in the world of food, but at the end of the day it’s a show about the people behind the food rather than the food itself. Given The Bear is fictional, this makes perfect sense. The purpose of fiction is to entertain, and people are generally more entertaining subjects than food. Unless we’re talking about Sausage Party.
But leave the world of fiction and that trend of focusing on the people over the food still holds. Chef’s Table is about the chefs (no clickbait there). Gourmet Makes may have piqued people’s interest because it was cool seeing junk food get a gastronomical makeover, but it held the attention of millions because we couldn’t look away as Claire Saffitz tempered chocolate while her own temper went into meltdown. And we haven’t even discussed how many of the most popular cooking competition shows today are just variations of Gordon Ramsay’s masterclass on insults. That’s not to say the aforementioned examples aren’t lovely or never actually discuss food. But whether intentional or not, the spotlight always shifts towards the people. Even in a nonfictional setting, that’s where the focus lies. Which is ironic given these chefs are often trying to tell us something about the food itself. Phrases such as “freshest ingredients” and “bringing out the natural flavors” are now clichés when it comes to food and cooking. Yet no matter how many times anyone says something along those lines, the buck stops there. There’s no greater examination of the food itself.
Food shows and movies, then, are like Zendaya in Dune: Part One. They bring all the hype and commotion to the table, but they barely show up in the final product.
Omnivore, the new Apple TV+ docuseries by Noma head chef and The Bear guest star René Redzepi, is a very different animal. Instead of being an exhibition of foods from around the world or a plunge into the minds of the greatest chefs, Omnivore is a show about something much more grand: food’s place in humanity. It may be something we take for granted, but the relationship humans have with food is wholly unique. Unlike other animals, we view food as more than just a necessity for survival. After all, we are the only species that goes through the bother of actually cooking our food. I say that despite once seeing a guy on My Strange Addiction who only ate raw meat in an Atkins-gone-rabid plot twist, but I’m hopeful he is very much the exception and not the rule.
That’s not to say there isn’t any room for human stories in this show’s version of the story of us. Part of the appeal of Omnivore is the focus it places on the stories of people on the agricultural side of the equation rather than the people on the kitchen or customer side. But beyond shining a light on those in the world of food who’ve been largely marginalized, these stories reveal just how much the lives of people around the world can revolve around something as small as a grain of salt. And if you’re still not moved, the show demonstrates just how powerful these foods have been in shaping society throughout history. Bluefin tuna can lay claim to shaping modern air freight. The Cavendish banana can say it toppled governments in Latin America, though there’s still no confirmation on whether it’s also responsible for all the Banana Republics in malls.
Beyond exploring how food has shaped the history of humanity, Omnivore also shines in that it asks us to consider what lies ahead. In an age where consumerism and climate change have pushed the global food supply to an inflection point, where we choose to go from here on out has a massive domino effect that impacts all of us. Redzepi doesn’t necessarily advocate for specific actions, and you could argue given his standing as one of the food world’s most prominent voices this is one area where the show could have been more forceful. But the truth, as Redzepi himself acknowledges, is that the complicated future of agriculture and food means finding a blanket solution is tough, if not downright impossible. With that said, the show’s point when it comes to discussions about the future is to drive home the idea that we should all be aware of these challenges and consider what possible solutions might be. The decision to have Omnivore focus on foods that are staples of restaurants and home kitchens worldwide helps drive home the need for everyone to consider the future closely. Talk about durian and plenty of people would hold their nose, be thankful for the fact TV can’t transmit smells, and move on with their lives. But who can say they’ve never had food that’s been seasoned with salt?
The tenets at the core of Omnivore are not novel. Food has always been a window into human history and culture. Yet Omnivore stands out because it’s the one amongst all the food-related shows and movies available today that actively reminds us of how much our lives are impacted by what we eat. It might not make for as exciting of a watch as the food shows that focus more on the personalities and drama, but this series is meant to educate and remind rather than entertain. And it accomplishes all of this while making sure the food is actually front and center. For the first time, the ingredients that make up what we eat actually have a voice.
Sausage Party might disagree with that last statement, but you know what I mean.