by Tiffany Tsao
The foodie is an elusively-defined creature. The Oxford English Dictionary describes the foodie as “[a] person with a particular interest in food; a gourmet”, yet sometimes differentiated from the gourmet in his or her “broad interest in all aspects of food procurement and preparation”. The Merriam-Webster Dictionary believes the foodie to be a trend-chaser: “a person having an avid interest in the latest food fads”. Yet, despite varying details of its “official” definitions, all evidence concerning its popular usage suggests there is one overwhelmingly distinctive trait by which one can identify a foodie: passion. Holiday editions of magazines offer special gift-suggestions for one’s foodie friends. Travel magazines provide destination advice and city-guides tailored especially for their foodie readers. There are foodie books, foodie clubs, foodie websites; the list goes on and on. The conclusion? Foodies are peculiarly interested in, fascinated with, mesmerized by, and intensely passionate about food.
Still, there are those who believe it takes more than mere passion to make a foodie. A foodie, they insist, a rarefied being. One whose passion for food leads him or her to be extremely discriminating about what goes in his or her stomach. One who couldn’t possibly conceive of eating a slightly wilted lettuce leaf, or a previously frozen salmon fillet, or (Heaven forbid) a microwaved TV dinner. I would argue that the term “foodie” has humble origins, but unfortunately, it doesn’t. First appearing in a 1980 New York magazine review of expensive Parisian restaurants offering nouvelle cuisine, the term was born with the metaphorical silver spoon in its mouth. Yet, despite the term’s high-falutin’ origins, I wish here to defend the frugal foodie’s right to existence. In fact, I wish to make an even bolder claim: that the frugal foodie is the truer foodie. For if the defining characteristic of a foodie is his or her passion for food, who could be more passionate about food than those who consider it a luxury?
Those who can afford to be picky with their food lose the ability to appreciate the fact of food itself in all its forms: fresh and frozen, fine and fast, flambéed and fried. In contrast, those who live on the lower end of the income spectrum—who limit themselves to whatever grocery items are on sale and who laugh uproariously at the fact that the “$25 and under” column of the New York Times dining section is written for the budget-conscious reader—are far more likely to spend more time enjoying what they eat and less time thinking about whether they could be eating something better.
It would seem that one’s wealth is directly proportional to one’s gastronomical expectations: when the former rises, so does the latter. The well-to-do shop at high-end supermarkets which sell higher-quality (and higher-priced) foods. At first, the $3.00 sale price for a box of organic Anne’s Homegrown Cereal at Whole Foods Market—a supermarket retail chain specializing in natural and organic products—may seem comparable to the $2.69 sale price for cereal at a lower-end Kroger supermarket. But upon closer inspection, Whole Foods offers far less bang for your buck: a measly 9 ounces of cereal as opposed to 14 to 25 ounces (depending what brand of cereal you choose) from Kroger. Alton Brown, the host of the Food Network cooking show Good Eats, often takes his viewers with him on trips to his local Whole Foods Market. He is also a finicky eater and a fussy baker. In one episode, which involves Brown repeatedly lamenting the evil store-bought atrocities made by an evil cake-retailer called “Cakes Mart”, Brown pooh-poohs the idea of using store-bought coconut milk to make coconut cake with a dismissive smirk: “You could...if that’s the way you want to play it.” Of course, Brown pays no attention to the struggling working mother cringing inwardly at his comments as she opts for the cans of coconut milk, so much cheaper than three fresh coconuts. And much to her delight, her four growing children will devour the whole cake and lick their plates clean. Of course, they would probably enjoy a cake made with fresh coconut milk. But then again, they would probably also enjoy one of those dreadful “Cakes Mart” cakes at which Brown wrinkles his nose so expressively. Unlike Brown, for this family, every coconut cake is a wondrous treat.
Unable to content themselves with regular and easily obtainable fare, the well-to-do have taken playing with food to new and utterly ridiculous heights. The Wall Street Burger Shoppe offers a $175 burger, made from Kobe beef (the most expensive variety of beef), topped with truffles, foie gras, Gruyere cheese, and flecks of gold leaf. The second most expensive burger in New York—served at DB Bistro Moderne in New York—costs $120. An article from Reuters includes the following quote from the bistro’s spokeswoman: “If you are making something concerned only about the price, you are off in the wrong direction.” Such a remark implies that the true food connoisseur realizes that high quality comes at a high price. But who would savor each bite of that burger more? The six-figure income-earning CEO for whom a $175 lunch is the norm? Or the lucky employee he treats to lunch who, chewing his burger in thoughtful amazement, experiences the taste of a truffle for the very first time? Such wild extravagance, from $100 burgers to $250 chocolate truffles (sold at Knipschildt Chocolatier in Norwalk, CT), demonstrates the inability of the wealthy to appreciate the plain old food that regular Joes and Janes indulge in. A McDonald’s cheeseburger and a Snickers bar? Maybe. If they feel like slumming it.
I speak partly from my own experience when I say that frugality increases one’s appreciation of food by leaps and bounds. During my time as a graduate student—not quite your archetypal starving student, but definitely a penny-pinching one—I gained a newfound appreciation for dining out, not just in high-class restaurants, but anywhere. Growing up in a fairly well-off family, eating in restaurants was an experience I took for granted. The onset of graduate school changed all that. Whenever my meager budget allowed me to pay professionals to cook my meals, I began salivating in anticipation days in advance. I scoured restaurant reviews online for recommendations about where to go. Once there, I would hem and haw over the menu, dazzled by the selections and trying to discern which one would most titillate my taste buds. I would linger over each bite of my carefully chosen selection. I would constantly express my joy at the mere fact of being in a restaurant to whomever my dining companions were. And if there were leftovers, I would lovingly tote them home, smiling inwardly at the prospect of enjoying them the next day. Sometimes, leftovers taste even better cold and a day old.
In her memoir about her experience as a New York Times food critic, Ruth Reichl observes a similar correlation between poverty and food appreciation, recalling the unexpected way in which a homeless man on the subway eats the leftovers she gives him: “I expected him to tear into the food and stuff it into his mouth, but he did not. With great dignity he spread the scarf on his lap as if it were a napkin....‘Roasted duckling!’ he croaked. And then, very delicately, he picked the leg up in his fingers and ate it slowly, savoring every morsel” (225-226). Despite her refined palate, developed over years of sampling the finest foods, Reichl herself seems to realize that she cannot hope to enjoy a roast duck in the same way that this man does; that she no longer takes the same pleasure in what has been made dreary by the demands of her profession. By her own admission later in the book, she grows increasingly cranky, writing bad review after bad review before finally realizing, to her horror, that her job is transforming her passionate love for food into a hollow shell of what it once was. To keep her love alive, she has no alternative but to quit the job which requires her to indulge in extravagant meals on a regular basis.
Perhaps the food essayist M.F.K. Fisher provides the most eloquent insight into poverty’s beneficial effect on the individual’s appreciation of food. Writing of the men and women who lived through World War II and the necessary frugalities it enforced upon society, she notes the awe and wonder with which they regard simple “luxuries” such as butter, meat, and eggs:
They will feel, until their final days on earth, a kind of culinary caution: butter, no matter how unlimited, is a precious substance not lightly to be wasted; meats too, and eggs, and all the far-brought spices of the world, take on a new significance, having once been so rare. And that is good, for there can be no more shameful carelessness than with the food we eat for life itself. When we exist without thought or thanksgiving we are not men, but beasts.
(Fisher 188)If having no discrimination when it comes to filling one’s belly is a mark of the animal, Fisher argues that taking food for granted is also a sort of descent into animalism itself. It is when food in all its varieties acquires this “new significance”—when our eyes are opened to the yellow creaminess of butter (never mind what brand) and the gorgeous fiery orange of an egg yolk (free-range or coop-kept)—that all our senses are set aflame. Only then can a foodie’s true passion for food burn brightly and burn long into the sometimes cold, dark night of a thrifty existence.
Bibliography
“Coconut Cake Revival.” Host. Alton Brown. Good Eats. The Food Network. 9 Jul. 2007. Television.
Fisher, M.F.K. Introduction. “How to Cook a Wolf.” The Art of Eating. New York: Macmillan, 1990. Print.
“Foodie.” Oxford English Dictionary. 2009. Oxford English Dictionary Online. 24 October 2009
“Foodie.” Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary. 2009. Merriam-Webster Online. 24 October 2009
Greene, Gael. “What’s Nouvelle? La Cuisine Bourgeoisie.” New York 2 June 1980: 32-41. Print.
Knadler, Jessie. “World’s Most Expensive Desserts.” Forbes Traveler.com. Forbes, 14 Feb. 2008. Web. 22 Oct. 2009.
Kroger Weekly Specials 10/28/2009-10/31/2009. Atlanta: Kroger, n.d. PDF file.
Reichl, Ruth. Garlic and Sapphires: The Secret Life of a Critic in Disguise. New York: Penguin, 2006. Print.
Trotta, Daniel. “New York City Now Home to $175 Hamburger.” Reuters. Reuters, 20 May 2008. Web. 23 Oct. 2009.
Whole Foods Market. This Week’s Specials: Wednesday October 21-Tuesday October 27. Atlanta: Whole Foods Market, n.d. PDF file.
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