Walking out of my gym, I saw the following bumper sticker, plastered on the back of a giant SUV: “You are what you eat.”
I couldn’t decide if I was more shocked to think people actually believe that or, if they do, they’d be so blind to their elitism as to actually say it, let alone broadcast it on their car.
You’re not what you eat. Indeed, essential to being human is the reality that, while your body is an integral part of yourself, you are so much more than your body. Understanding this is the key to grasping the inherent equal dignity possessed by all.
And yet this bumper sticker sums up how detached from reality the foodie world has become. To them, food is some kind of religion, and to quote from an actual religion, “Their God is their stomach; their glory is in their ‘shame.’ Their minds are occupied with earthly things.” (St. Paul, in Philippians 3:19)
For today’s foodies, their glory really is in their shame, namely, their shaming of others through their epically snobbish lingo, most of which has by now been stripped of all meaning. Here is some of the worst in foodie phraseology:
Artisanal. The idea that 99.99 percent of items branded as artisanal were made by actual artisans is absurd. And the word is a total dig at the everyday Americans who work in factories or on farms where food is produced en masse, as well as at the people who are so lowly as to consume non-artisanal food.
Handcrafted. In a sense, everything is handcrafted. That includes your Gap clothes made in a sweatshop with help from child slaves in Sri Lanka.
But even when we’re talking about factories that respect human rights, what is so bad about machines? Do we hate the Industrial Revolution now? Is there something wrong with reproducing on a large scale something that tastes delicious?
Small batch. Once you make something delicious, it’s not very hard in the modern world to make it with equal deliciousness on a larger scale and actually make some money. Some call this phenomenon “capitalism.”
Or you can just artificially limit output and use the language of supply and demand to drive up the price for people who want to feel like they are eating or drinking something made only for the elite.
Then there are some trendy terms now thanks to very non-small-batch retailers like Starbucks or Whole Foods, such as . . .
Steel cut, cold-brewed and cold-pressed. Because my steel cut oats are better than your rolled oats. Starbucks actually did limit production of its cold-brewed coffee last summer so that people thought it was special enough to be worth paying significantly more than just regular iced coffee.
Farm fresh. This is the new variation on the now slightly passé “farm-to-table,” which is also a hoity-toity and basically meaningless phrase. Why are some eggs “farm fresh,” while others are just lame old eggs? Just how “fresh” does it have to be, to be deemed worthy of the label “farm fresh”?
There’s that and much more: “Locally sourced.” “Hand picked.” Et cetera.
These phrases often come in couples or trios, lest the consumer have any doubts that their food truly does bear the stamp of elite production.
While waiting for a coffee at Peet’s the other day, I noticed a sign celebrating the company’s 50th anniversary. But I could barely get past the sentence that assured me that Peet’s is special and made “the right way.”
This “meant sourcing the world’s finest beans” and “hand-roasting in small batches.” Congrats on “sourcing” your beans, Mr. Peet! I guess the hand-roasted, small-batch stuff had to go in order for you to grow into a billion-dollar company with hundreds of chain stores across the country.
There is nothing wrong with wanting fresh food, or appreciating the work of the people who put a lot of care into making it taste special, or in wanting to support the farmers in your local community. But there is something deeply wrong with the moralizing and elitist tone that characterizes the way the wealthy talk about their food. To equate self-worth with food, or to purposefully cast expensive and fancy food as morally preferable, especially when it is unattainable by the poor, is indicative of a society in a backward slide.
St. Paul said of those who made their stomachs their god, “Their end is destruction.” Want to avoid destruction? Help bring the foodie world back down to earth.