What’s the Opposite of "Recessivore?"

If a recessivore is someone who is changing their eating habits due to reduced economic circumstances—more lentils and ramen, less fancy stuff—then what do you call people who are merrily consuming ever-more expensive items?

We’ve already covered the $975 dinner and the $13 coffee—today we bring you the $160 cocktail and the $89 steak-and-eggs breakfast.



When the Home for the Range is a Mansion

Uhh, or something. One thing that makes me crazy is the way that, for many people, being a foodie is this socially-sanctioned form of conspicuous consumption. Like they get that it’s not cool right now (recession!) to be going out for crazy spendy meals every night or buying another Prada bag but it’s OK to blow thousands on cookware and Himalayan dandelion butter, because that’s nurturing and wholesome and part of being a food activist!

I get that the kitchn folks weren’t suggesting that their readers actually buy any of these obscenely expensive ranges but mostly appreciate them for how great-looking they are. (And they are gorgeous.) But this points up the way that so much foodie media falls into line with most other “lifestyle” media—the argument is that it’s supposed to be aspirational.

Aspirational is why people keep buying Martha Stewart and Men’s Health and watching the Food Channel even though they are never going to have washboard abs, faux bois hallways, or cook 7 straight nights of healthy, low-cost, quick, easy, delicious, and inspiring foods for their families. I get that we all need something to strive for, and I like a pretty picture as much as the next person but have you ever noticed the hamster wheel these images set you on? “Aspirational” might as well be “shopspirational”—you have to keep buying better cookware, going to newer restaurants, redoing the bathroom, and trying new workout regimens.

This is not a brilliant media insight. But when you combine the the narrative that you need to buy things to be a successful foodie with the pervasive implication that being a foodie is some kind of moral triumph, that it means you are evolved and sensual and in touch with the earth/yourself/several spices that lesser people have never heard of, then you can see how privilege and foodieism are linked in some uncomfortable ways.

As a brilliant friend of mine just said:

David Brooks (I KNOW) really did say it well in Bobos in Paradise — there is a segment of the populace who would never dream of flaunting designer labels on their clothes and who scorn mcmansions but they pour money into bathrooms and kitchens  — two private spaces in the home that involve the body — which they design not to look flashy but to be totally luxuriant, fetishy. It’s like the big trend for slate, everyone’s favorite fine-grained metamorphic rock. It’s earthy but expensive, it’s not shiny like granite, it has no sparkle. In kitchens, it’s not about appliances with tons of bells and whistles, but big bulky ones that look like they could be in restaurants, that make you feel like you could do anything a famous chef can do, but it’s GOOD to spend money on those things b/c you are CHERISHING and CARING for your hearth and family. It’s VIRTUOUS!

This blog isn’t about how foodies suck, or why foodies are bad. Hey, some of my best friends, etc. There are foodies who work in soup kitchens and food pantries and who are actively addressing food issues worldwide. I appreciate that so many are following us, even though we like to make fun of them, and I know we aren’t the first to raise some of these topics. But, in addition to how deeply funny foodies often are, they also offer us opportunities to talk about these things from time to time.