Brilliant Article in The Guardian by Self-confessed gastronome Tim Hayward on 10 tell-tale signs that you love food a little too much.
Friday June 23, 2006
The Guardian
The chef's table
Located inside the kitchen, this concept has been introduced in several restaurants (though Gordon Ramsay's is still considered the ultimate) and throws foodies right in among the fire and knives. Most foodies have never worked in a professional kitchen, so they are oblivious to the deep, psychotic hatred that cooks hold for anyone or anything that distracts them during service. Still, dining sumptuously with a table of yapping sybarites while surrounded by overheated manual workers does display a certain, pre-revolutionary elan. The fact that they hate you and are armed with knives and boiling fat merely adds a seasoning of danger.
Ironic food
Throughout history chefs have amused diners with little culinary jokes: roast suckling pigs with peacock wings, pies full of blackbirds; not, admittedly laugh-out-loud hysterical but enough to enliven a dull banquet. The modern equivalent - "ironic" food - has a far more vital purpose than mere entertainment. Foodies chortle wryly at a foie gras hamburger in a brioche bun for the same reason that people laugh loudly at all the references in Shakespeare in Love - to make sure you're aware exactly how clever they are.
Ordering 'off-menu'
Having managed, by luck or influence, to get a booking at a top restaurant, most people would be happy to choose from the menu. A really high-grade foodie regards the menu as a list of raw materials and, in a jaw-dropping display of arrogance, will discuss with the waiter a completely new combination of the available ingredients. Ordering "off-menu" is the foodie equivalent of skiing off-piste - risky, performed by those with more confidence than ability, but extraordinarily impressive if you can carry it off.
Kitchen slang
Foodies love the arcane patois of the professional kitchen and, whenever possible, use it in general conversation. "Frying off", sounds gratifyingly professional, which, of course, it is, in the right circumstances. "I'll just pour two pints of industrial-grade grease into this metre-square brat pan, fry off 800 battery chicken breasts, slap them under the heat lamps and hope no one dies on my shift." That's professional. "I'll fry off this Marks & Spencer salmon fishcake," on the other hand, is just absurd.
Foodie/chef relationship
Foodies believe that no one appreciates great food like they do, except maybe the person who cooked it. They believe they have a bond with the chef and that making a little fuss in the restaurant, showing the staff that they know what they're about, will result in better service, better food and ultimately a visit by the man in white to meet the erudite fellow gastronaut on table eight. No one has been brave enough to ask chefs how they feel about this "bond" but it's a fair bet that anyone who calls you out in the middle of service to have their ego massaged with a discussion on the provenance of your mushrooms is not going to stay your best mate for long.
Fats
A collection of oils arouses little comment these days, (at least three single-estate olive oils and a bottle of Moroccan Argan are currently de rigueur) but extreme foodies also collect solid fats. Pork, duck, beef dripping, rendered pancetta trimmings, are all saved in little jars at the back of the fridge. Sometimes at the end of the meal the host may take a favoured friend over to view this little collection, proudly pointing out the goose fat left over from Christmas. Few civilians, with the exception of mass murderers, are entirely comfortable with this disturbingly forensic display.
Molecular gastronomy
A term coined in 1969 by a French physicist called Hervé This, who was attempting to popularise science through cooking. Foodies have embraced this as the nearest thing to a movement currently available. "Molecular gastronomy" is to blame for foams, food eaten blindfold, liquid nitrogen in the kitchen and desserts served in syringes. Only a real foodie can say "Molecular gastronomy" with an entirely straight face and without making little quotation marks with his fingers.
Outrageous equipment
Now that merely "professional" equipment is available to any oaf with a credit card, "specialist" or "bespoke" kit is a foodie essential. Take knives as an example. Somewhere in a back street in Tokyo there's a brilliant, wizened sashimi chef who was first allowed to slice fish after 20 years of washing dishes for one of the great masters. This sensei has been cutting sashimi for longer than you've been alive. He doesn't need a £900 hand-forged sashimi knife, individually weighted to fit his hand - though, apparently, a foodie who throws the occasional dinner party for friends in Muswell Hill does.
Travel
The problem with the UK's culinary renaissance is that it's now too easy to get great food. What was cutting-edge ethnic cuisine five years ago is now available to anyone who can pierce the film and nuke it. For a foodie to maintain distance from the merely discerning, travel and research have become essential. We're not talking about touring France for the 3-star restaurants here - that's for retired solicitors - we're talking Vietnam for the frogs.
Collecting 'restos'
American foodies are in a different league and have taken to gastronomy with a frightening enthusiasm. They began the trend for "collecting" Michelin-starred restaurants, a sort of culinary Munro-bagging which reduces the sublime to the level of "extreme" sport. They're also responsible for the most egregious foodie pretension, just beginning to creep into British usage, using the term "resto" as shorthand for restaurant. Pray God we can pull together as a nation and stop this in its tracks.
· Tim Hayward is UK editor of the website eGullet.org
