Do We Vote What We Eat?

What’s for Dinner? The Pollster Wants to Know

By Kim Severson

IF there’s butter and white wine in your refrigerator and Fig Newtons in the cookie jar, you’re likely to vote for Hillary Clinton. Prefer olive oil, Bear Naked granola and a latte to go? You probably like Barack Obama, too.

And if you’re leaning toward John McCain, it’s all about kicking back with a bourbon and a stuffed crust pizza while you watch the Democrats fight it out next week in Pennsylvania.
If what we eat says a lot about who we are, it also says something about how we might vote.

Although precincts and polls are being parsed, the political advisers to the presidential candidates are also looking closely at consumer behavior, including how people eat, as a way to scavenge for votes. The practice is called microtargeting, as much political discipline as buzzword. The idea is that in the brand-driven United States, what we buy and how we spend our free time is a good predictor of our politics.

Political strategists slice and dice the electorate into small segments, starting with traditional demographics like age and income, then mixing consumer information like whether you prefer casinos or cruises, hunting or cooking, a Prius or a pickup.

Once they find small groups of like-minded people, campaigns can efficiently send customized phone, e-mail or direct mail messages to potential supporters, avoiding inefficient one-size-fits-all mailings. Pockets of support that might have gone unnoticed can be ferreted out.

“This is essentially the way Williams-Sonoma knows which of its catalogs to send you,” said Christopher Mann of MSHC Partners, a political communications firm, which has used microtargeting to help dozens of successful candidates, including Gov. Christine Gregoire of Washington and Gov. Tim Kaine of Virginia.

Although gender, religion and other basic personal data are much more valuable for pollsters, information about eating — along with travel and hobbies — are in the second tier of data used to predict how someone might vote, he said.

So, for example, Mr. Mann knows that someone who subscribes to lots of gourmet cooking magazines is more likely to be a Democrat or at least more open to progressive causes. That can help a campaign decide if it’s worth spending money courting that person’s vote.

Although Karl Rove was not the first to use microtargeting in a campaign, he brought it to new levels of sophistication and prominence, dividing swing voters into groups like “tax and terrorism moderates.” The strategy helped send George Bush back to the White House in 2004. Matthew Dowd, the former chief strategist for President Bush who is now a political commentator for ABC, helped orchestrate that effort. The Bush team studied food preferences, among dozens of other traits, as a shortcut to finding independents who might lean Republican, he said.

For example, Dr Pepper is a Republican soda. Pepsi-Cola and Sprite are Democratic. So are most clear liquors, like gin and vodka, along with white wine and Evian water. Republicans skew toward brown liquors like bourbon or scotch, red wine and Fiji water.

When it comes to fried chicken, he said, Democrats prefer Popeyes and Republicans Chick-fil-A.
“Anything organic or more Whole Foods-y skews more Democratic,” Mr. Dowd said.

But consumer information has to be studied in context. “I don’t know how much you can use food or drink alone to determine how they will vote,” he said. “You can’t have a candidate with a Pepsi-Cola and Pizza Hut box and think that’s going to win an election for you.” Jeff Navin, managing director of American Environics, a progressive research and strategy firm, agrees.

“Knowing that your base drinks gin doesn’t give you a clear idea on how to communicate with them effectively on issues,” he said. “But if you take it a level deeper and say, are there psychological drivers that will help understand the values behind the behavior, you can speak to those values and persuade voters.”

Mr. Navin offers an example from his firm’s ongoing survey that periodically asks 1,800 people in-depth questions about their lives. In last summer’s polling, the latest available, Mrs. Clinton scored high among voters who also had favorable views of McDonalds, Wal-Mart and Starbucks.
That led his team to conclude that Clinton supporters put a high value on national brands.

Although the landscape in the Democratic race has shifted since the poll was conducted, Mr. Navin said, back then the name Clinton was the most popular national Democratic brand.
Mark Penn, a microtargeting expert who was dismissed as chief strategist for the Clinton campaign last week, wrote a book on the subject: “Microtrends: The Small Forces Behind Tomorrow’s Big Changes” (Twelve, 2007).

Although Mr. Penn, who claims credit for coining the term “soccer mom,” didn’t specifically seek out research on the dining habits of voters, he does use food as a way to define the candidates.
Specifically, he points to Mr. Obama’s comments about the rising price of arugula at Whole Foods during a campaign stop in Iowa. “He has more of the arugula vote,” he said in an e-mail message last week. “Senator Clinton’s voters are more likely to be making ends meet and so they do a lot more cooking at home and a lot less eating out at expensive restaurants.”

Although Mr. Obama’s team is also using consumer data to target voters, the campaign is focusing more on what one adviser called “macrotargeting.” The idea is to build a unified, all-encompassing Obama brand that works well across all kinds of media platforms. “I would say we’re old-fashioned in that you have to look at America as a whole,” said Bill Burton, Mr. Obama’s national press secretary.

That’s not to say they don’t have specific information about voters, he said. And the campaign isn’t above using food to gain an edge. After the founders of Ben and Jerry’s endorsed Mr. Obama, the campaign blog quickly suggested a new ice cream flavor that plays off of a favorite campaign slogan: Yes, Pecan!

Whether a campaign uses a lot or a little consumer information, it can cause trouble if not interpreted correctly, some political veterans cautioned.

An environmentally minded independent who trends Democratic might buy organic milk, but so might an independent conservative who is more concerned about the health of her children than the state of the earth. They buy the same product, but for different reasons. Send an environmental message to the conservative and you could lose her vote.

That’s why some, notably James Carville, a Democratic strategist and CNN political commentator, see microtargeting as a waste of time and money. Although he believes the cost of food is a fast-rising issue among voters, knowing what they eat doesn’t win elections.

“Suppose I found out people who drink cappuccinos are Democrats and black coffee drinkers are likely to vote Republican?” he asked. “So what? All kinds of other things are more predictive and less expensive to find out.”

Besides, the lines between who eats what continues to blur. Republicans are not necessarily red-meat-eating bourbon swillers, and not all Democrats are carrying their lattes to the farmers’ market.

Mr. Mann recently saw someone on a Metro train in Washington with a Bush/Cheney sticker on his bag reading “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle,” Barbara Kingsolver's meditation on eating local food.

Some people who cook and serve food have been students of microtargeting for years. JoAnn Clevenger, the owner of the Upperline restaurant in New Orleans, doesn’t need a data set to identify how customers might vote. She just watches what they order.

“The Republicans are more formal and have more attention to structure when they eat,” she said. The classic example would be her delicate trout meunière.

Democrats tend to order earthy, down-home food with lots of juice for sopping, like Cane River country shrimp with garlic, bacon and mushrooms.

But lately she’s seen a lot of interest from both sides for her Oysters St. Claude. The oysters are coated with corn flour, gently fried and then slipped back into their shells and covered with an adventurous, Morrocan-style sauce seasoned with ground whole lemons, garlic, cayenne and paprika.

It’s the ultimate crossover dish, and she believes it’s popular this year because voters are being pulled in several directions.

“You have a respect and a yearning for the past,” she said, “but a feeling like you want something new and exciting that says let’s go all the way.”

Christian Author Has Problem with Conservatives

ORLANDO, Florida (AP) -- Donald Miller still loves God and Jesus. Don't misunderstand him.

His problem is with Christianity, at least how it's often practiced.

"It's a dangerous term so I try to avoid it," said Miller, who considered giving up his career as a Christian writer and leaving the church in 2003 because he couldn't attend services without getting angry.

For him, the word conjured up conservative politics, suburban consumerism and an "insensitivity to people who aren't like us."

To quell his rage, he sat in his boxer shorts and banged out a memoir of his experiences with God, stripped of the trappings of religion.

"Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality" sold just enough to pay a few months rent. Then five years later, spurred by a grass-roots movement of 20-something Christians longing to connect to God without ties to the religious right, the book became a sudden hit.

Fans were buying caseloads and passing out copies to friends. It peaked at No. 18 on The New York Times list of best-sellers among paperback nonfiction in November. He was mobbed by fans after a recent Young Life conference in Orlando where he addressed a crowd of roughly 4,000.

Christians tired of the "life is perfect" mantra of some churches, revel in his ability to talk unashamedly about smoking pot, living in a hippie commune and the notion that God isn't a Republican.

Supporters say Miller's authentic, graceful approach to God has finally given a voice to their brand of Christianity. The book also debuted at a time when the emerging church movement -- which emphasizes the individual's faith experience and varied worship styles -- is flourishing, signaling a fertile audience for such religious musings among more socially liberal evangelicals.

Watching TBN one night on TV, Miller, 36, realized the conservative religious network was many people's baseline for Christianity. He wanted to change that.
"These people are absurd. I've been a Christian all my life and I don't even know Christians this weird," said the Portland, Oregon-based writer, who is single.
In his book, Miller describes his disdain for the us vs. them mentality between Christians and non-Christians.

"I felt, once again, that there was this underlying hostility for homosexuals and Democrats and, well, hippie types. I cannot tell you how much I did not want liberal or gay people to be my enemies. I liked them," he wrote. "The real issue in the Christian community was that (love) was conditional ... You were loved in word, but there was, without question, a social commodity that was being withheld from you until you shaped up."

Dave Morton was also growing cold on the church when he picked up Miller's book.

"The perspective that was refreshing to me was that your Christian faith doesn't have to look exactly like everybody's else's," said Morton, a 28-year-old ski instructor from Bend, Oregon. "It kind of inspired me to pursue God again with a fresh perspective."

Brad Jones, a 30-year-old youth pastor at a conservative Southern Baptist Church in South Florida, said he felt alone in his desire for more authentic dialogue about God.

"My thoughts on faith aren't really going along with everyone else and then I read this and said, 'That's what I've been thinking the whole time,"' he said.
Miller's book embraces cultural relevance, not cultural dominance, he said.

"The typical judgmental, hate-filled, bigoted, more people knew what we were against than what we were for," mentality has little to do with the real God, Jones said.

Some experts say Miller and authors like him are in sync with a generation of young adults who very much believes in God, Jesus and the basics of Christianity, but are struggling to balance their conservative Christian upbringings with a culture that embraces a go-along-to get-along philosophy.

"People like Donald Miller are speaking almost like a prophet of a new age and describing the landscape in a way people who feel comfortable in that landscape really couldn't articulate before," said David Kinnaman, a researcher for The Barna Group and author of "Unchristian."

Critics call Miller's works casual and glib and that he strays from biblical truths when he downplays homosexuality and other sins.

One such critic, Shane Walker, says Miller presents Jesus as a "nice fellow who meets one at the campfire and swaps stories." He forgets to remind readers that Jesus is also a judge and avenger who "wants to save you from his just wrath," according to his review for "Blue Like Jazz", an organization designed to help local churches re-establish their biblical bearings.

Miller, who is almost disappointingly normal looking in jeans and a blue button-down shirt, says "toeing the party line for the church is not my job; telling the truth is my job. I don't fear saying that certain Republican policies are painful for God to endure."

Miller has sold more than a million books, including "Searching for God Knows What," and republished his first book, "Through Painted Deserts," which sold dismally before his "Blue Like Jazz" fame. He also travels much of the year for speaking engagements.

"When I wrote this book I felt like I was stuffing a message in a bottle," Miller said.

Like the old Police song, Miller's beach is now flooded with responses.

"There's this connection of 'Hey, we're not alone in this boat."'

DUCK!!

In the debate over foie gras, chefs take out their knives.

BY VICTORINO MATUS

In a Newsweek column last May, chef and restaurateur Wolfgang Puck explained how he would run his food empire from now on: "It's about getting every one of us to eat the right foods," he said, outlining his plans for serving pesticide-free vegetables and free-range chicken, beef and pork. "As for foie gras," Mr. Puck said of the delicacy of buttery rich duck (or goose) liver, "my customers and I can easily live without it."

The classically trained Austrian chef, who earned his fame at Spago and whose products can now be found at both the airport and the frozen-food section, has clearly touched a nerve in, as they say, the celebrity-chef community.

"I think he should stop worrying about cruelty to animals and start worrying about all the customers he's flopping his crap on at airports," says chef Anthony Bourdain, the author of "Kitchen Confidential" and the star of the TV series "No Reservations." Mr. Bourdain elaborates: "He does a lot of business in California. He got squeezed and pressured and phone-called from all angles, and like a good German shopkeeper he folded and sold out the people hiding in the cellar next door. I got no respect."

"A German shopkeeper"? How has a debate over goose liver gotten so nasty? And when did being a chef become so, well, political?

Chefs have always had their opinions. Julia Child's biographer Laura Shapiro writes that, "as she saw it, irradiation didn't pose nearly the threat [to our way of eating] that, say, vegetarianism did." In the 1970s, Paul Bocuse led the way toward simpler dishes with fresh ingredients, launching nouvelle cuisine. And Alice Waters emphasized local and organic foods with her "earth-to-table movement." But the question of whether to serve a dish or not because of humanitarian concerns is a relatively new one.

Banning foie gras has become a rallying cry for animal-rights activists across the country because the delicacy requires the insertion of a feeding tube into the duck's or goose's esophagus for several seconds three times a day toward the end of the bird's life; this force-feeding causes the liver to swell to well over its normal size. California plans on banning foie gras by 2012, and it's already illegal in Chicago. Last month the Humane Society of the U.S. sent the Agriculture Department a petition pushing for a nationwide ban.

But now the delicacy has caused a split among celebrity chefs--some of whom believe their job is preparing food, while others want to use their fame to score political points. In an email, Mr. Puck said his decision was not the result of being bullied. Reflecting on Spago's 25th anniversary, he writes: "I realized that . . . we had built a very successful company . . . and I wanted to use this success as a platform for doing something more socially responsible--something that needed leadership. Removing foie gras is a small part of our larger initiative . . . about values and eating and living WELL." (Mr. Puck's nine-point WELL program stands for "Wolfgang's Eating, Loving and Living.")

Wayne Pacelle, president of the Humane Society, whose organization worked with Mr. Puck on WELL, says the group did not engage in pressure tactics. But Michael Ginor, co-founder and president of Hudson Valley Foie Gras, disagrees: "There was an awful lot of pressure. I know from Wolfgang Puck's own chefs who are friends."

Some chefs view the criticism of foie gras as a direct assault on their tradition and heritage (it has been eaten since the time of the ancient Egyptians). "The intimidation [animal-rights activists] gave me and my staff--this is a big political problem," says Daniel Boulud, New York's four-star restaurateur and host of the TV show "After Hours" (in which the chef throws a dinner party for friends at a different restaurant each week). "Animals are treated here for the purpose of food--I think the duck has a pretty nice life." Culinary elder statesman Jacques Pépin calls the banning efforts "a sham." (Both men are respectful of Mr. Puck but believe, like Mr. Ginor, that he was pressured into his decision.)

Bill Buford of The New Yorker considers the activism of chefs "a good thing because food itself is and always has been more than just a plate of food. It is also history, identity, family, biology, culture, and, yes, politics." Fair enough. But like other celebrities who campaign to save the rainforests or to stop global warming, chefs may eventually push the limits of their fame. And Mr. Puck's customers may decide they've had enough.

On the other hand, Mr. Buford, the author of the best-selling "Heat: An Amateur's Adventures as Kitchen Slave, Line Cook, Pasta-Maker, and Apprentice to a Dante-Quoting Butcher in Tuscany," couldn't care less about the specifics of this debate: "It's a fat bomb," he says of foie gras, "the swollen testimony of a goose that has lived a luxurious life, offered up as an inflated luxury to the people prepared to pay for it. . . . Who cares? Do you? I don't." Clearly, some others do.