Raised in the household of a classically trained chef, I liaised daily with formal structures of dining; from strategic settings of tables to complex chronologies of dishes, my quotidian was seeped in subtle valorisations of culinary norms and etiquettes erected to complement the act of consumption. As a child and still, to this day, my father appeared kindred to a magician, observing him transform organic matter into elaborate meals in an amalgam of efficiency and elegance. I recall being struck by the inherent ephemerality of it all, intrigued by the fluctuation of forms within the span of a day - from whole, to prepared, to consumed. There was an inevitable mesmerization with the swiftness in which transformation could occur, a metamorphosis that transpired in just a few chops, turns, or sizzles. These seemingly abstract culinary pirouettes invoked an enchantment with how intricately these movements were woven together into an extended choreography that balanced hosting, performing, and serving. Witnessing my father’s omnipresent dedication to these delicate maneuvers, infused with meticulous care and convivialities, trickled into my nascent interest in the convergence of culinary labor and artistic praxis, kindling a slightly peripheral approach to the domain of the kitchen. This deviation ultimately encompassed experimentation with conventional modes of hospitality, situating my practice as a sort of fermentation jar, in which playful subversions became an increasing occurrence as I undulated between commercial culinary spaces and more artistic or institutional contexts. The flux between these seemingly disparate sites rendered a liminal space, a node in which metaphor and metabolism could coalesce, burgeoning reflections on the role of the host.

In its most fundamental form, fermentation is the chemically induced transformation of a substance by bacteria, yeasts, or other microorganisms. This metabolic process converts organic molecules into acids, gases, or alcohols in the absence of oxygen and was historically implemented as a methodology for preserving edible matter, with early traces supposedly predating agriculture. The process generates a controlled environment that breaks down sugars with the aid of enzymes to conserve edible matter by slowing down or halting its inevitable decay. Fermentation practices pose a curious juxtaposition between the fastidious care intrinsic to the process of tending to a ferment and the spontaneity that arises in the confluence of bacteria. This inherent material metamorphosis, provoked by a pursuit of preservation or what could equally be regarded as an attempt to thwart deterioration, germinates a robust framework applicable to a reimagination of roles within hospitality, inverting the guest-host dynamic in an echo of the microbial capacity to either be a guest or a host.


What alternative modes of relating do we nurture if we unlearn viewing bacteria as foreign to our bodies and rather as an essential part of them? In embracing the microbial as a potential collaborator rather than an extraneous force, how might we reconsider the intertwined webs of culinary practice? Collective culinary practice extends beyond solely the human hand to include the vegetal, the animal, and the microbial. How can we use fermentation as a methodology to deviate from anthropocentric modes of consumption, subsequently extending our modes of relating to sculpt a space for what Kelly Donati refers to as the convivial table? What roles might shift when unabashedly embracing the seemingly chaotic convergences of microbial transformation and how might this metaphorical framework propagate reflections on reciprocity? In speculation upon the host as the hosted and the hosted as the host, how do we outline what it entails to truly host? If we take fermentation as a metaphor for considering what to preserve and what to transform, what sort of framework do we generate to critically examine the roles of hosting within the hospitality industry?

Implementing fermentation as a conceptual armature, in an elaboration on Lauren Fournier’s framework of preservation and transformation forges a tool with which to examine what to guard and what to relinquish within conventional modes of hospitality. Fournier states that:

Taking fermentation as a barometer to analyse the dichotomies of host versus hosted sculpts an analogous frame to reimagine relations of care and control in hospitality. Fermentation, contingent upon shifting conditions and spontaneous encounters, occurs in every locale in which microorganisms are digesting material; the process catalyzes reflections upon transformative processes and their innate relationship to reciprocity, saturated with possibilities of microbial economies of exchange. The transposition of this metaphorical framework into the kitchen, a site equally saturated with flux and ephemerality, catalyses possibilities to experiment with the roles. The innate pressures of culinary work give rise to a sort of carbonation, an effervescent energy that foams and fizzes, with fleeting frictions that find their way into aerated corners.



A scrutiny of the guest-master dichotomy in the etymology of the word host invites a (re)consideration of the roles and duties of hosting; a host can essentially be any resource that possesses the capacity to accommodate another resource as a guest. The origin of the verb to host alludes to one who gives entertainment or receives guests, while simultaneously, the noun is derivative of the Latin hospitem, indicating “guest, stranger, sojourner, visitor,” both definitions hinting at inherent binds to the notion of hospitality. Certain etymological speculations conjoin this with the Proto-Indo-European ghos-pot denoting “guest-master” which dwells in proximity to the Slavonic gospodi, “lord, master,” literally indicating a lord of strangers. This hypothetical dominion over strangers in the etymological origins of the word host provokes a questioning of the senses of duty and expectation within the guest-host dynamic.  In her essay Edible Matter, Jane Bennett offers a lens that can be applied to this relation, particularly when bound to the act of consumption, proposing that:


In tracing back the etymology of the verb ferment, one encounters the 1750s iteration indicating “to separate into components,” alluding to degrees of de-fragmentation that reside in resonance with the ostensibly segmented roles of the kitchen. The subsequent application of the verb in the 1770s offers a reconvening, as when sections become “resolved into constituent elements,” hinting towards a gathering or assembly. As the verb morphs over time, it begins to garner resemblances to its more contemporary implementation in applied science referencing alchemical tendencies. The verb ferment propounds a lens for examining fragmented matter and the potentiality for disparate elements to bond, mirroring the coalescences of microbial interaction. Thinking of the collectivity of a restaurant or kitchen as a fermenting body, or as an organism that once congealed, possesses the capacity to digest matter and convert it to fruiting bodies proceeds in stride with the self-proclaimed fermentation fetishist Sandor Katz's sentiment that “reclaiming our food means reclaiming community, engaging its economic interconnectivity of specialization and divisions of labor.”¹ How can the microbial economies of exchange that permeate fermentation lend a model to reimagine economies of exchange within the realm of culinary hospitality? The preexisting models that dominate the service industry beckon a reconsideration of reciprocity, invoking a re-mastication and subsequent regurgitation of the hierarchical structures that dominate it. How can one starts to propagate possibilities to subvert the innate verticality of the restaurant model that has so extensively dominated the formats of hospitality that we interact with on a daily level? As Kelly Donati inquires:
 

How can fermentation posit a barometer to examine conviviality and commensality in gastronomy and its subsequent, almost inseparable yet at times disregarded, relation to hospitality? As an artist and chef whose practice oscillates between both conventional and non-conventional frames of hosting, the duties braided into the role of host become increasingly malleable through the movement between contexts, each shift providing further rumination on what tasks hosting encapsulates and the expectations accrued from said position. Within certain frameworks, my role is strictly slated to serve a public, however, within certain projects, a dissipation of the binding to serve becomes possible, inviting the so-called guest to experiment with hosting themselves, facilitated by participatory gestures. It is here, in the margins and the blurry in-betweens, in which artists and chefs alike can experiment with structures that germinate possibilities of reciprocity and horizontality within consumption practices. In thinking of both the ferment and the dining constellation as potent amalgams or complex composites for these subversions, how can we embrace the structural polyphony embedded in collective culinary labor, simultaneously kindling it as a catalyst for radical forms of conviviality? How might these sites that dwell external to conventional hospitality, ones converging artistic and culinary practices, act as a vector to ferment the roles of hosting and, furthermore, implement methodologies of preservation and transformation as a generous modality to rethink hosting?

Footnotes:

¹⁾  Katz, S. 2013. The Art of Fermentation: An In-depth Exploration of Essential Concepts and Processes from Around the world. White River Junction: Chelsea Green Publishing Co.
2) As coined by Jason Moore, the Capitalocene can be understood as a system of power, profit and re/production in the web of life whose dominion is so immense that it is suggested as a counter to the more commonly implemented anthropocene popularized by Paul Crutzen.