All Foodies Are Eff-Wits!

By Rupert Truscott-Hughes on November 17, 2010 in Food

There are many downsides to the recent success of the cooking genre on our television networks. As if celebrity chefs like Neil Perry and Matt Moran weren’t annoying enough, we now have this new breed of what I like to call celebrity ‘cooks’, who would almost certainly be well out their depth if they had to ‘plate up’ for a posse numbering more than a four people. And what’s worse, that pompous twat in the cravat Matt Preston has spawned an army of would-be (or wannabe) food critics, or ‘foodies’ if you will, who honestly believe that their palates can pick up and process flavours that common folk cannot.

Now firstly, being a chef really is a shit of a job. Why anyone would want to go on a show in which the winner is bestowed the honour of becoming a chef is beyond me. When I was a kid, it was the high school drop-outs who became chefs; those who couldn’t cut the mustard (so to speak) in the corporate world due to a lack of intelligence and a propensity to partake in criminal activities and dabble in drug abuse. So let’s get one thing straight, there is nothing glamorous about slaving away in a kitchen, hence why I shipped Mae-khao (a.k.a. ‘Mary’) in from Thailand to cook for me.

That said, this article is not intended to take aim at the chefs and the cooks, but rather the self-confessed ‘foodies’ who fluff about telling anyone who cares to listen just “how divine” Adrian Zumbo’s macarons are or why the Berkshire pig jowl at Quay “could probably do with a little more seasoning”. People who describe themselves as such make me dry reach. I mean, besides those battling the debilitating effects of anorexia nervosa, who doesn’t like food? We’d all be dead without it after all.

Admittedly, I’m far from being one of these ‘foodies’. Michelin stars mean nothing to me. Before researching this article I thought they were the tyres on my Porsche. And I may be a bit of wanker but ‘molecular gastronomy’? You’re having a laugh, right? What a load of codswallop!

Foodies are only such so that they can boast to their friends about the fancy restaurants they’ve been to. It is what makes them feel important. Essentially it’s a status thing, and trust me, I know all about status things.

But the truth is that foodies are no more refined than you or I, they are simply more willing to spend a lot of money on meal that probably offers less nutritional value than a ten dollar steak and salad from the Nelson in Bondi Junction. They are the snobbiest of the snobby, and to out-snob Rupert here is certainly an accomplishment.

Food lovers, and I’m sure there are many of you out there, I suggest you do not refer to yourselves as ‘foodies’ for fear of falling into this pigeonhole. If you’re going to have the hide to call yourself a foodie you’d at least want to be fat, and Matt Preston certainly ticks that box.

In finishing, to those of you that collect restaurant experiences like little old ladies collect teaspoons, and to those who recount meals in ridiculous detail in conversation, I have one thing to say: I don’t give two shits if you’ve eaten at Tetsuyas!