The plague of the ‘TV dinner’

 I blame Swanson.

When the venerable American food company rolled out its latest product in 1953, two household appliances – the freezer and the television, were becoming commonplace. The marriage of convenience between the two resulted in a bastard progeny - the frozen TV dinner. 

Marketed as a way for Americans to enjoy their meals while they basked in the warm glow of the cathode rays emanating from their television sets, the Swanson TV dinner was an instant hit. Nearly four generations on, the sins of Gerry Thomas (the man credited for inventing both the product and the name for Swanson) are now being visited upon media-saturated Americans everywhere. 

Televisions in eating establishments are as ubiquitous these days as battered stock portfolios. What started as a sensible business model for owners of sports bars and pubs to lure more couch potatoes out of their dens, has devolved into a trend more invasive than any fungal infection.  

They're everywhere.

Airports. Check-out lines. Waiting rooms. Then, the final straw: restaurants. The National Restaurant Association, in a 2007 survey, estimated that 69 percent of casual dining establishments, and 50 percent of fine dining establishments offered televisions for customer entertainment. Make it stop. 

'Teachable moments'
Don't get me wrong. I like television, and not just because it pays the mortgage.  I'm a broadcast journalist. 

Television fired my imagination as a child, and I doubt very much I'd be in the business I'm in now had I not come of age bearing TV-witness to momentous events from my perch on our living room floor. 

Neil Armstrong's "giant leap for mankind" forms one of my earliest childhood memories. Vietnam, Watergate, Hank Aaron breaking Babe Ruth's home run record, the Iran hostage crisis – all of these events were imbued with what educators today like to call "teachable moments," and my parents seldom missed an opportunity to seize upon them. 

Art of conversation
But like most American families then, dinnertime was reserved for two things: food, and conversation. 

If the former was lacking it was because Mom, when she went back to work full-time, made the regrettable decision to champion something called "creamed corn" – a canned concoction bearing an uncanny likeness in texture (and, presumably, taste) to cat vomit. 

If the latter was lacking, well, that was a bigger problem. You were expected to take part in the conversation. No televisions or radios violated the fiercely guarded airspace of our dining room.         

Science backs tradition. There have been numerous research studies supporting the notion that a shared, family dinner experience has widespread benefits.

A University of Michigan study of children ages three through 12 found that eating together as a family was the strongest predictor for fewer behavioral problems.

But what constitutes "eating together" these days? 

Lost in the glow
Driven from our favorite pizzeria by a blaring, flat-screen television, I recently met up with my wife and kids at another pizzeria just down the road. My daughter Alexa, who otherwise has the attention span of a gnat, was rapt as she watched the lone television (at least with no audio) in a far-off corner of the restaurant.  I repositioned her at the table, and managed to steer her back into the conversation. 

Not five minutes later, a father sat down at a table next to us with his three children. Before they could even get their coats off, two of children had fallen under the hypnotic gaze of the television, the third to a portable video game device. The entirety of their dinner conversation consisted of a mumbled dinner order, and Dad calling for the check.   

If the art of conversation has not been lost, it's eligible for the most endangered-species list.

Television sets in restaurants are emblematic of a pervasive social aloofness aided and abetted by video games, cell phone, blackberries and, yes, television. If people never develop the social skills necessary to carry a conversation, why would they want to use them when they go out to dinner? 

I suppose it's easier to fill the voids in a conversation with a client, a date or even a spouse if you've got television as a distraction. But do we really need to see the latest contestants from "The Biggest Loser" stuffed into their Lycra while we try and pair a nice white wine with our chicken francese?   

Drawing a line
Frank Stocco, owner of National Restaurant Design based in Minneapolis, estimates that 95 percent of the start-up restaurants he has helped design are making use of flat-screen televisions, but draws a distinction as to how they should be used.

"What is important in a dining setting is a full sensory experience, and overkill with any one aspect of it can destroy the whole thing." Stocco cites an Italian restaurant that uses LCD screens to display works of art from Italy, with classical music as a backdrop – a setting he says can actually stimulate conversation. 

When it comes to commercial television in eating establishments, he says, "I think you have to draw the line."  That line may soon be re-drawn. Some restaurants have begun to use table-top systems that allow you not only to view the menu and pay the bill, but also to access a touch-screen TV monitor, the internet, and video games.           

In 1986, the Swanson TV dinner was inducted into the Smithsonian Institute. Here's hoping today's restaurateurs give this nerve-grating trend the same treatment, and mothball it.