This is your time-honored image of a Parisian dinner party: Elegantly clad guests carrying on a sparkling conversation.

This month, two big dinner parties are turning that picture inside out.

On the evening of June 12, the annual Dîner en Blanc attracted 13,000 picnickers swarming over six city bridges. Beginning at 9 p.m., couples clad only in white arrived with folding tables and chairs, baskets of food and bottles of wine. They had been sent personal invitations, and notified barely an hour beforehand where the event would take place: the suspense is a big part of the evening’s charm.

There were extravagant white hats, white masks, white wigs, and white table settings. Homemade and gourmet food was laid out, shared, consumed; corks popped (only wine and Champagne are allowed); musicians entertained. A traffic lane was kept open where necessary, but cars flowed by slowly as drivers stopped to gape. The fête ended precisely at midnight, when everyone pitched in to clean up the debris.

This is the 26th year the the Dîner en Blanc has been held in France (always on a Thursday in June) and the first time on the Parisian bridges. Previous venues included the Château of Versailles, the Pyramid at the Louvre, the lawn in front of Les Invalides, and even the plaza in front of Notre-Dame cathedral. The Paris party has grown rapidly from the original one hundred couples, and many other cities are now copying the idea: New York, Toronto, Montreal, Los Angeles, Miami, Barcelona, Singapore, Tel Aviv.

The originator of the Dîner is François Pasquier, an obviously sociable Parisian whose son now coordinates other dinners from his Montreal base. Some cities, like New York, require municipal approval, but not Paris, where there has been no need for police surveillance. (And amazingly, never any rain.) Perhaps the pristine clothing encourages good behavior, and the fact that everyone is a friend of a friend of a friend.

Photo by Stéphane Renaud

The other unusual dinner will be held June 30 for several hundred guests at a large panoramic meeting space in Paris: the Dîner en Silence. No translation needed: it will be a four-course meal with wine and music, and absolutely no talking. The originator of this concept is a young woman, Coco Broc de la Perrière, who has studied Buddhism and meditation, and is eager to teach people the joys of silence and mindfulness.

She held a demonstration dinner for 30 journalists several weeks ago. She herself spoke from time to time, reciting inspirational passages, and two sopranos occasionally sang. But guests could not utter a word. We were asked to observe a small pea-like object on our plate, and then taste it. (I have no idea what it was!) Candles were lit, wine was poured, delicious food was carefully and quietly served.

The entire experience lasted just over two and a half hours. During that time, smiles were exchanged and a few small gestures, but not a peep. The silent room became a sort of sanctuary, and finally, when time was up, we simply embraced each other. The silence had pulled us together, far more powerfully than if we’d been chatting away all evening.

Of course, there’s a lesson to be learned here: We live in a noisy world, and that noise is both distracting us and dividing us. We are multi-tasking and rushing through our days. We are consigning our thoughts and memories to electronic devices. We are obsessed with the quantity of communication and not the quality. We are left with very little time to pause, to reflect, to dream.

These two dinners, so different from each other, illustrate the challenge of our lives today: The White Dinner, to create a safe and friendly sense of community; and The Silent Dinner, to discover a quiet and peaceful place within.

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Since Sam Kass became Senior Policy Advisor for Nutrition Policy at the White House five years ago, he has been at the forefront of Michelle Obama’s campaign to convince manufacturers to reduce fat and sodium and add whole grains to their foods. A legacy of the White House will be improving school lunches — if, that is, the improvements the White House won four years ago don’t get rolled back by a Congress that says fruits and vegetables are expensive and kids don’t eat them anyway. Kass will discuss the White House’s priorities and successful strategies, the far-flung effects of the Let’s Move! campaign and their unexpectedly heated recent fight to keep their lunch legacy alive.

Special Guests:

Sam Cass, Senior Policy Advisor for Nutrition Policy at the White House

Corby Kummer, Senior Editor at The Atlantic

NEW YORK, N.Y. – At Blue Hill, his intimate, understated restaurant in Greenwich Village famous for its locally sourced ingredients — not to mention having hosted Barack and Michelle Obama on a much-publicized date night — chef and co-owner Dan Barber is featuring a Rotation Salad this week.

Not the most inviting name for a dish, perhaps. But this salad epitomizes Barber’s new approach to food — not only how we prepare it, but how we farm, consume and even conceive of it.

And so this particular salad includes soil-building crops: Barley, buckwheat, rye. And legumes, a natural soil fertilizer: Peas, kidney beans, peanuts. A so-called “cover crop,” meant to replenish soil — pea shoots — is used in the vinaigrette. Seed crops include benne and rapeseed.

Why is all this significant? Many know Barber, who also has another well-known restaurant in leafy Westchester County, based on his own farm — Stone Barns at Blue Hill — as a key champion of the farm-to-table movement, favouring locally sourced and produced food.

But now, he’s shifted his approach. In “The Third Plate: Field Notes on the Future of Food,” Barber argues that the farm-to-table philosophy, while wildly and increasingly popular, is fundamentally flawed, because it’s based on cherry-picking ingredients.

What we need instead, Barber says, is a cuisine based on what the land can provide — nothing more, nothing less. He argues for a nose-to-tail approach, not to one animal, but the entire farm. He recently sat down at Blue Hill with The Associated Press to explain. (The interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.)

AP: For starters, what the heck is “The Third Plate”?

Barber: It’s not a specific plate of food. You could say it’s a metaphor for a way of eating.

AP: Is there a First or Second Plate?

Barber: The First Plate would be that seven-ounce (or eight- or twelve-ounce) steak that becomes the paradigm of everyday dining. It’s protein-centric, with a few veggies to fill in, and maybe refined rice. The Second Plate is actually the same architecture, but you know where your ingredients are coming from a little more — hopefully you got them at the farmer’s market or they’re organic or sourced in a way that connects you to a farm or community. It’s tastier, but it’s not a way to think of our future diets.

AP: But with that Second Plate, aren’t we doing everything right?

Barber: Yes, but we can’t support the system. That’s becoming abundantly clear from alarming forecasts about the future of the environment, soil, water. You know, with the farm-to-table movement, we feel good about what we’re eating; we’re lulled into thinking it’s the answer. The evidence is actually saying the opposite. It’s saying that in the last 10 years, big agriculture is getting bigger.

AP: A harsh assessment.

Barber: It sounds hardhearted. I mean to sound hardHEADED. The recent census said that, for the first time in the history not just of this country but of the world, more than 45 per cent of the money we spend on food is in the hands of one per cent of the farmers.

AP: How did your new philosophy emerge?

Barber: About 10 years ago, I really wanted good flour in the restaurant. I met an amazing farmer named Klaas and bought his emmer wheat. The bread was jaw-droppingly delicious, and I was really proud: it was sourced locally, organically and was an ancient grain, headed for extinction.

I went up to visit his farm a few years later. I was standing in the middle of his field — 1,500 to 1,800 acres — and I didn’t see any wheat! He showed me buckwheat, barley, bean crops, mustard plants and clover. He described these meticulously timed rotations of cover crops to restore lost nutrients to the soil. He’s continually rotating them, to get his soil ready for the wheat.

But, what was I doing? I was supporting the wheat but not the other crops. They go into bag feed, for animals.

AP: But isn’t supporting the wheat good?

Barber: It’s cherry picking. At the farmers market this morning, everyone was buying asparagus, peas, and all these exciting vegetables, which are high-value crops. But it’s the rotation crops we need to be more supportive of.

AP: So what else should we be eating?

Barber: Buckwheat and millet, barley and rye … I could go on. How many kidney beans do you eat? Not enough. If you think back to truly sustainable ecologies, cuisines evolved from what the land could provide. French peasant cuisine. Italian cuisine. Cantonese cuisine. All the cuisines in India. When Parmesan cheese was invented in Italy, what did they do with the whey? They fed it to pigs, and made prosciutto de Parma. The pigs are fattened on the whey — that’s what makes prosciutto so delicious — but it’s a waste product of the cheese.

AP: You write a lot about soil.

Barber: Yes, the whole first quarter of my book. It’s hard to get through. But it all starts with soil. I fell in love with soil.

AP: I’m the consumer. What’s my job?

Barber: First, don’t underestimate cooking — for yourself. Also, I would support chefs who are willing to break out of the paradigm of that seven-ounce steak, and are offering menus heavy on vegetables, grains and beans.

AP: Don’t you yourself offer some protein-centric plates?

Barber: I’m trying to get away from it. It’s hard. But many chefs are trying to change the paradigm of the plate — because it’s boring. A seven-ounce steak or lamb loin isn’t really cooking, just heating. It’s not culinary transcendence. Not even close.

That’s not to say I don’t enjoy a good steak. I love it, but in proportion. So, celebrate — but do it in proportion to what the land can provide.