I am a most unlikely fan of Gilmore Girls: A thirty-something, testosterone-fueled male whose ideal recreation involves bruising football matches and obscure martial arts; a person who any day would choose a horrible Steven Seagal movie over anything starring Meryl Streep. And yet I find myself enamored of this family drama about mothers and daughters who do nothing but talk. How do I explain this?

I attribute my fascination to two things: small-town community and food. I grew up in a small town, so the close-knit identity and wacky characters of the fictional Stars Hollow ring true to me. I come from a town where nearly a thousand people, including the mayor, attended the funeral of our local transvestite, who used to parade around town in sneakers, a flowery dress, and a hat made from KFC boxes. Suffice it to say that Kirk seems relatively normal to me.

Food is vitally important to small towns. Local eateries shape the town’s identity, while potlucks and shared meals provide a context for social interaction. Residents show care to one another through the bringing of meals and desserts. Food is about more than sustenance: It is a means of communication.

Gilmore Girls establishes its interest in food from the very first episode, as the following conversation between Emily Gilmore and Lorelai Gilmore attests:

EMILY: An education is the most important thing in the world, next to family.
LORELAI: And pie. (silence) Joke, joke. (“Pilot,” 1-1)

But she’s not joking. Food plays a role in Stars  …