Hate Foodies? One Man’s Rant Will Bring Warmth To Your Cold Heart
They say the best meals are the ones where you can’t remember what you ate. Now, I’m not 100% on this, but I think they’re trying to insinuate that it’s more about the company you keep and the conversations you have as opposed to that time I drunkenly fell asleep at the dinner table when I visited New York City in November.
And me, I abide by this. Life’s about the journey,Bro. Not the destination. But, there’s a group of people out there who fervently disagree with this notion. These people are worse than lumbersexuals, worse than mixologists, worse than people who go running by tailgates on Saturday mornings.
Now, Merriam-Webster defines a foodie as “a person with a particular interest in food; a gourmet.” I define foodies as “uppity dickheads who want to mentally put you on the ropes by talking about how ridiculous it is that California banned foie gras.”
Listening to a foodie is like watching The Food Network — it’s just just listening to someone gush about how good something tastes when you have literally no way of actually knowing just how good it actually is. You just have to sit their nodding approvingly while saying, “wow, that’s so awesome” while they drone on about their bone-in ribeye methodology that you’ll straight up never use. But, being 2014, we live in a world where everyone thinks they’re Anthony fuckin’ Bourdain.
For instance, after girls graduate from college and embark on their life in the real world, they progress from their sorority to joining the foodie community while also getting suuuper into yoga. The issue I take with this is that most girls think they’re foodies because they put avocados with cracked pepper on their toast and have a Pinterest board simply called “eat.” which is intentionally not capitalized and culminates with a very deliberate period. But, they’re not foodies. They’re just at a point in their life where they’re no longer starving themselves for spring break and, rather, they’re spending their superfluous cash from their advertising job at Chicago’s hippest new restaurants.
On the flip side, you’ve got the male contingent that’s primarily made up dudes who never played organized sports in high school and now are just thirsty to find their “schtick.” You wanna tell me about the BBQ joint run out of a gas station that you went to in west Texas? Or how about the banh mi sandwich you had in ’06 at a San Francisco popup restaurant? That tickle your fancy, Bro? Well, not me. I’d rather listen to someone tell me about their fantasy football lineup dilemmas than listen to you jerk off the hipster chef that made you a grass-fed pork belly truffle-infused quesadilla at your favorite taqueria.
Foodies all function with the same modus operandi: they’d rather talk about their food instead of enjoy it; impress you with their vast culinary knowledge rather than be the strong, silent type. If I wanted to sit at a table and have someone describe the food to me, I’d go to Beni-fuckin’-hana. Call me a simpleton, but some people are more steak-and-potatoes kinda guys while others are “this sashimi platter is so well balanced” kinda guys. Me? I’m takin’ the former.
If you want to update your LinkedIn profile with a link to your food blog that ends in “.blogspot.com“, by all means, be my guest. Just don’t step inside my kitchen and belittle my charcuterie selection that I spent $8 on at the grocery store down the street.