unguided tour

There is nothing quite as disappointing as dinner in an American restaurant.

No matter how much money I spend or how far I travel, the food invariably tastes sanitized, drained of its original flavor, infused with a suffocating plethora of aromas. As if the American palate has no patience for the acid sweetness of the tomato, the gentle comfort of chicken, the salty freshness of the oyster, the maternal fierceness of lamb, the coquettish charm of pork. One taste is never enough. Instead chefs invent shocking combinations of ingredients whose flavors exceed even the presumptuousness of chewing gum — or a smoothie.
Need an example? Here is one from one of ‘the top foodie destinations’ in the Cambridge/Boston area. At Craigie on Main an organic flat iron steak is served with bone marrow, smoked beef tongue, shiitake mushrooms, Camargue red rice, walnut-foie gras purée.

Food is a spectacle meant for visual consumption. American restaurants are elaborate + expensive peep shows for ‘foodies’. One goes to see and be seen. To consume and be consumed.
Where the guest is a voyeur (and who in America isn’t) meals have to be spectacular — and predictable. No surprises, please. And they have to be short. ‘I’m ready when you are,’ the waiter whispers leaving the check on the table. Less than ninety minutes have passed.

Going out for dinner is an exercise, a competition, an assignment: Do you think we’ll get in? Did you manage to get the table by the window?

The happy consumer shuns conviviality.

I wholeheartedly support the cause of slow food, I applaud the effort to serve dishes made from organic and/or locally grown ingredients. But how does one change a sensibility?

Are you still working on that?
I don’t work on my food, I eat it.

Tags: foodies, slow food

Posted: July 16th, 2009