Or does the desire to write about food hyperbolistically only afflict assholes? Why are urban restaurants incessantly dubbed “hip, funky joints”? Why can’t popular restaurants be popular restaurants instead of “neighborhood joints that really pack ‘em in on weekends”? When will people realize that it’s really not clever to refer to a barbeque restaurant as a “‘cue joint”? Why do food writers either feel the need to be annoyingly colloquial or ridiculously ornate? Will there ever be food writing in the United States that doesn’t embarrass anyone with a reasonably developed sense of perspective? Probably no single trend I’ve ever observed has become as annoying as what I’m going to begrudgingly dub foodie-ism. I say begrudgingly because it’s a stupid word to say and it sounds retarded– but I guess since what I deem it to define is both stupid and retarded, it’s phonetically appropriate. Foodie-ism is defined by me as turning the act of eating–a natural part of sustaining one’s life–into a way to let people know that you’re one sophisticated motherfucker, a hilarious concept to be sure because anyone that thinks that they’ve achieved some type of enlightened sophistication by being able to spout out esoteric minutiae about creme brulee is obviously only impressing one group of people: other assholes like themselves that don’t actually have anything interesting to say about anything remotely meaningful. Since the nefarious influence of the Food Network began to be absorbed into the nation’s collective psyche about 10 years ago; I really think foodie-ism has become to this decade what disco was to the 70′s, Whitesnake was to the 80′s, and the Grateful Dead were to the 90′s: embarrassingly stupid bullshit mega-trends that only the least interesting, mentally vacant people of each era defined themselves through. I suppose the only good thing that can be said about foodie-ism is that it might be something of an evolutionary phase of lame assholeness. The tried and true way to be an asshole since I’ve been alive has until recently been to be into whatever music you’re into and be like: “Fuck you, I’m into (whatever). I’m a badass.” The benefits of defining yourself via music are that you can join a little social club and have your little niche/get in where you fit in/whatever, but it’s kind of lacking in that the idea that you’re separating yourself in a fundamental way because of whatever music you’re into is pretty weak. Most 70 year-old people like Frank Sinatra. Most 60 year-old people like Jimmy Buffett. Most 50 year-old people like the Steve Miller Band. Most 40 year-old people like Journey. Most 30 year-old people like Radiohead. All this really does is show the age you are and what shitty music you like, but it doesn’t really let people know anything about what kind of person and how bad a badass you truly are.
Enter foodie-ism: foodie-ism lets people know that you’re all about enjoying only the finest of shit life has to offer in only the finest of ways. Foodies drink “crafted” beer. Foodies let you know that if you’re not dividing your wine drinking experience into 47 delineated steps that you’re wasting your goddamn time and might as well kill yourself. Foodies call people that cook food geniuses…for cooking food. Calling someone a genius for cooking food is like calling someone a genius for creating an excellent workout plan–and quite possibly as ridiculous as Bob Saget referring to his comedy as art (which has been documented). Read a food review from whatever publication of whatever city you’re in about a restaurant and instead of seeing the words you might intelligently expect to see in such an article like: “good”, “gross”, “expensive”, “cheap”, “decent”, “loud”, “comfortable”, “service”, or “environment”; you’re probably more likely to see these words instead: ” breathtaking”, “inspired”, “tones”, “impressions”, “notes”, “artistry”, “pairing”, “ambiance”, “deft”, and of course…”dazzling”. Fucking dazzling. Quantifying what amount of impression something needs to make to be properly deemed dazzling is admittedly kind of a vague deal, but I’m quite sure that I’ve been “dazzled” maybe 5 times in my life, and none of them had anything to do with eating a truffle. I’m pretty sure the only way I could ever be dazzled in a restaurant was if 8 of the waiters did acrobatic flips back and forth on giant flaming pogo sticks over a group of breakdancers with Barack Obama masks on while I pounded Irish Car Bombs listening to My Bloody Valentine through headphones peaking on acid. But apparently, at some point, stupidity and full of shitness morph together to create a sophisticated ability amongst foodies to be routinely “dazzled by the deft pairings of the inspired genius of the chef in his minimalistically breathtaking food studio”. Foodie-ism is now so rampant that there are now like foodie splinter groups with like different lead assholes to cover the gamut of lame idiots trying to be cool by being into food. In addition to the super-lame “enjoying the finer things in life finely is what life is all about” regular assholes the Food Network and the Travel Channel have been trotting out for years, we now have Anthony Bourdain to cater to the “hip, restaurant workers that know what the scene is all about”, and Guy Fieri to cater to foodies that still want to be into drifting and movies starring the Rock. You see, you don’t have to be sophisticated to be a foodie. In the same sense that foodie-ism is just an evolutionary way for people to ambiguously define their coolness (e.g. defining your social personality through music), there are different branches of foodie-ism for you to express your foodie individuality. Anthony Bourdain is like the foodie guru for people that think listening to Vampire Weekend and getting fucked up all the time makes them artistic, while Guy Fieri’s got his own ”How would Rob Zombie eat a hot dog?” thing going on. Think of the band equivocation thing like this: if the people that’re into “breathtaking dazzling pairings” were into a band they’d be into Rush– prattling on about talent, knowledge, virtuosity, and whatever faux-elitist bullshit they could think of; if the Anthony Bourdain people were into a band it’d be the Sex Pistols “‘cuz they’re like real and shit and question authority”, and if Guy Fieri people were into a band, that band would definitely be Nine Inch Nails, cuz’ Guy Fieri does with foodie-ism exactly what Trent Reznor does with music: simplifies everything simple people think is complicated in a way that makes them feel like they’re sophisticated. My favorite Guy Fieri phenomenon is his name. Guy Fieri pronounces his name fee-yay-day. If you ever refer to him please do not use this ridiculous pronunciation. If by chance you happen to be comparing some guy you once saw waiting in line at the theater to see “You Don’t Mess With the Zohan” to Guy Fieri, please say fee-air-ee… because that’s how his name is spelled. The idea that some asshole is asking an entire nation to operate against its understanding of its native language to get his name right is preposterous. Kevin Bacon is the worst person in the universe and even he doesn’t spell his name Kevin Bartkowski and then show up screaming at the 8 personal assistants he’s requested at an underwear commercial shoot that his last name is properly pronounced “bacon”. But then again we’re talking about a guy who has two restaurants, one named Tex Wasabi’s and the other Johnny Garlic’s. I’m not making that up. Here’s a little commercial sample of the guy who’s the foodie icon of choice for the same people that have either referred to Eminem as a genius, or have owned a Get Up Kids album:
The thing that’s irritating to me is that nobody seems to be vocalizing how retarded all of this bullshit is. People aren’t making fun of foodies, which fucking blows my mind. As with all evolution, success is the key. Foodie-ism evolved because it’s significantly easier for someone like me to meet a guy wearing a Peter Gabriel shirt and tell him he’s hilarious, than it is to convey that people are assholes for fetishizing a perfectly good part of life in a manner inconsistent with good judgment or reasonable human behaviour. But it can be done. Don’t let these assholes fool you into thinking that every time they say they’ve found a phenomenal, high-energy, Venezuelan/Thai fusion food studio or a “funky new joint downtown that serves mean fall off the bone ribs”–that in a related alternate reality they’re not dreaming about owning a Harley Davidson and wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt. The next time someone at a bar asks you if you know why India pale ales are called India pale ales, ignore the question and ask them how they feel about feminism or socialized healthcare. That person is both guaranteed to not talk to you for more than another 20 seconds and also to at least briefly feel misguided and stupid, both of which are better than hearing some dumb story about some shit you don’t care about from some asshole who thinks it’s awesome that Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” is being played on the jukebox. Billy Corgan is an asshole.
