The Candy People of the Land of Ooo

Adventure Time with Finn and Jake is the best! There is a CANDY KINGDOM.


    Finn and Jake



    Princess Bubblegum

                 

Assorted candy people (ducwidt?)

All kinds of grumbles

Yesterday the S. Pellegrino World's 50 Best Restaurants list was announced – which, despite its title, is actually a compendium of the world’s ‘best’ 100 restaurants.

The 1 – 50 list is of course the most coveted by ‘restaurant spotters’, however as I would understand it, the extended praises provide an opportunity for other high achieving food establishments to receive a recognition that many (but by no means everybody) in the land of gastronomy deem to be of the highest order.

There are many food professionals that probably disagree with the means, process and result of this annual ceremony, though I am not privy to this and nor am I qualified to critique this ‘industry-speak’. What I was compelled to write about was my opinion of the ongoing reaction of the Australian punter to news features about fine dining.

Australians (at least here at home) are renowned for what is called ‘tall poppy syndrome’, which, according to Wiki Almighty is “a pejorative term used in the UK, Ireland, Australia, and New Zealand to describe a social phenomenon in which people of genuine merit are resented, attacked, cut down, or criticised because their talents or achievements elevate them above or distinguish them from their peers”.

Sometimes when a review of a fine dining restaurant appears in our newspapers, or more often - as in this case - a food writer’s ‘best of’ list surfaces, the  ever-egalitarian comments section of the online version of the publication is an explosive if not humorous mess of no less than Eton-esque proportions.

In fact, I wonder if food journalists, editors and critics ever take the time to see what the average Joe or Joanne has to say about their particular line of work or whether they gave up caring long ago. From observation, the audience is split between those that are interested and those that are morally outraged that fine dining even exists, let alone that people might want to acknowledge its existence. This indignation stems from the belief that fine dining is a past time for rich wankers or that the accompanying price tag is shameful to the human condition – or various combinations of both.

Of course eating a meal at a fine dining restaurant every day, every week or even every other month is not possible for most of us (myself included), but I don’t think that any food professionals – chefs, food writers, restaurateurs, whomever – are pretending otherwise. Also I am using the term ‘fine dining’ here quite loosely to refer to restaurants as revered as Noma, the reigning world champion by the San Pellegrino standard, but also to the (comparatively) more accessible and casual ones like Ms Gs or Duke Bistro here in Sydney.

The argument:

Superior than thou food ‘likers’:

I find these people very strange as they seem to say ‘Hey, I watch Nigella. I watch Jamie. I watch Escape to River Cottage and the subsequent infinite spin-offs when it’s a public holiday and it repeats on Lifestyle Food. I know about real food, and fine dining ain’t it.’ *

“Hey right backatcha” I say. “Homegrown, quality, rustic style food has its place under the umbrella of fine dining absolutely for sure. But can’t you also appreciate that some chefs want to push their talents further – move nourishment into a form of art? No? Really? Ok then.”

My comeback only works if the fine food really tastes good.

“Won’t somebody think of the children?!”

So maybe this particular comment doesn’t illustrate this approach that well, but what I mean by this is the people who bemoan that the cost of eating in high end places could be money so much better spent elsewhere.

This really came into it’s own over a recent SMH Lifestyle section article that asked celebrities (from my memory food and non-food related) how they would $1000 on a meal. Oh, how our protagonists agonised and protested against this! ‘How can anyone justify spending this much money on a meal when people are starving, the world is going to bits, the roof is leaking etc’. The celebrities and the journalists carried on being called shameful and selfish until one sharp reader pointed out that the entire premise was hypothetical.

The cost involved in fine dining will always be a barrier either financially or morally for some people, and unfortunately – and I want to emphasise that as a sincere ‘unfortunately’ - this is a by-product of the society we live in. But two things: why is the leisure activity of fine dining derided because it costs money? Flying to a holiday destination costs money, and there are very few people that would give that up in favour of a more financially or eco/socio friendly option.

Secondly, for the most part you can bet most acclaimed chefs pride themselves on using the best and most ethically farmed ingredients - and apparently the coming trend is to adapt commercial kitchens to be more sustainable, though I can’t elaborate further on that topic. Good produce costs money. Try to imagine that every restaurant in your local area starting to introduce ethical ingredients into their menus. And now try to imagine the price rise. Of course, the high end price tag is GST inclusive – you’re paying for the wait staff, the tableware, and so on.

My argument is invalid if you are a vegan anti-capitalist, in which case I admire you, we have no beef (sorry).

The voice of reason:

Then suddenly, these guys:

You know these guys, and you know there is no reasoning with these guys. “Oi! You guys! Why the hell are you reading the food pages anyway?!”

So these commentators don’t really bother me THAT much, in fact I was part of this comment stream not at all adding anything of value. Rather, as someone who believes in food as an artform and who is interested the role of food within our societies and histories, these comments are pretty good entertainment value.

*I totally always watch Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall when I go home to visit my family

One of these days I'll make a real post...

...instead of spending so much time on tumblr. But I thought these were relevant. Right?

Food in art - food as art. Hello! We may have ourselves a blog topic here. I'll get back to you.

Restaurateurs - Listen Up!

Also there is this interesting pro vs con article about this whole thing:

www.openforum.com%2Fidea-hub%2Ftopics%2Fmanaging%2Farticle%2Fshould-your-restaurant-take-reservations-maggie-hoffman&h=04ede

Jugo de Tomate Frio

Basically, if you want women to respect you, you had better shoot up some V8 - quick smart. Also gives you a fantastic singing voice and the ability to be like an assassin or a demi-god.

A friend in Barcelona used to sing this at drunken singalongs and it makes me happy to remember. Plus - the fan video is awesome.

Soft and Fuzzy

Ella Bache - she's a real peach!

I'm currently eating a large, fairly typical peach.


On food shows, I  have heard people exclaim with juice running down their chins that the rustic peach they are eating is 'just like a real peach, like they used to be'.


Sometimes I think I have never tasted a real peach and have no idea what a peach is meant to taste like.

Slow Food Blogging

So I get it already, I'm late to the party. There are already millions of citizens of Blogandia - motivated by different reasons and enjoying varying levels of satisfaction and success, much like real life. 


The food blogosphere is one seemingly wrought with boring contention. 'Traditional' food media are apparently miffed that any old Joe Blogs (oh yeah) can go eat somewhere, write about it and influence people. The annoyance factor is amplified when a blogger is 'invited as a guest' of said place (ie. not paying for the privilege). The blood is brought to the boil when said blogger is offered a book deal after the journalist has spent years climbing the baguette ladder.


Food bloggers vehemently defend themselves with cries of toiling and typing for the passion. They go on about the egalitarianism of blogs as a medium - breaking through the almost impenetrable fortress that is food journalism. They band together as victims and have verbal orgies with each other via their comments section.


Hell, I understand both sides and for now there is room for everyone while there is still a clear distinction between the two. Reflections from a professional food writer need not be in competition to the recollections of a food blogger, for now. 


It may seem misguided to diss food bloggers in my first post on my baby food blog, but it's not as bad as it sounds. I equally dislike professional food writers' angsty blog-induced tantrums as much as I want to vomit at the sycophancy of food blogger cliques. 


I like to occasionally indulge in some food pornyness, but am usually too embarrassed to take pictures in a restaurant and am more interested in learning about food from a sociological and historical perspective. 


So yeah, back to my original point - maybe this shit is redundant. Maybe it's The Future? I don't know, we will see. Hopefully at some point I can have the conversations that I really care about, and in the meantime you are all free to sponsor a post for a pastrami sandwich.


Post script - a friend of mine commented that food writers can be fairly cliquey with themselves and with chefs too - which is a fair point.