There’s a pretty firm line drawn in the sand between the person I am now and the person I was before I started cooking all those years ago. It used to be that I couldn’t enjoy most food because I didn’t know any better, but now that I do know, I struggle to find food that manages to avoid getting caught up in all of the traps that I’ve set up in my fickle little brain. I’m talking about snobbery, and I’ve been guilty of it my entire life.
The restaurant industry is chock full of people just like me, ready to pounce on anything inferior, only to loudly announce that it is indeed garbage. My intention has always been to point people in the direction of the things that I’ve decided are the best things, and that’s as good as good can be. These “good” intentions have unfortunately manifested themselves as misguided rants and raves, which seem to have the opposite of the desired effect; it just makes people angry. We’re a bunch of confused crusaders, clutching our copies of the French Laundry cookbook whilst swinging our swords at anything that fails to live up to “The Standard”, leaving a wake of angry and unconverted townspeople. As it turns out, sucking on belinis at Moxie’s isn’t a cry for salvation.
In high school, a passing grade started at 50%, whereas trade school introduced 70% as the bottom line. Those marks now seem incredibly lenient in comparison with my (estimated) minimum passing grade of 85% at the dinner table. I’ll stare all the way down my nose at a hamburger and then go over my 100 point hambuger checklist. Dry burger? Instant fail. Burnt bun? You’re expelled. It seems like an awful way to go about life, but I’m ecstatic when I stumble across a burger (or anything else) worthy of the honour roll.
Any hopes for a change in attitude are quickly extinguished by the fact that I just can’t unlearn what’s right and what isn’t. I’ve spent years being guided (see: frequently dosed with condescension and sarcasm) and can’t ignore the various follies that find themselves on the end of my fork. Ladies and gentlemen of the fictional jury, I present to you Exhibit A: soggy bacon. I’ve eaten one too many slice of this tragedy to feign ignorance. It’s flat out fucking wrong. Soggy bacon happens because of a convenient little device that us cooks refer to as a steam table. Bacon comes out of the oven, crackling, crispy and delicious, only to be dumped into a moist environment to be kept warm for a swift and convenient service. So when this sad little pile of swine is positioned next to my eggs (complete with little pools of canola oil), it’s understandably difficult to keep my mouth shut. I see culinary stunts like this all the time, and it just reminds me of all of the people who scolded (and are still scolding) me for the tricks I tried to pull. I can forgive errors in the presence of ambitious techniques, but when the simple things, the IMPORTANT things, fall short, my mind goes to dark places. I’m talking Michael Douglas in Falling Down dark places.
I know I’m not alone. I also know that most people, the uninitiated, would rather not listen to us shit on things that they enjoy (even if they’re so, so wrong). Since we won’t be changing any time soon, we’ll have to rant passionately yet quietly amongst ourselves while sitting on our golden thrones atop our own personal towers made of ivory and diamonds. Let them eat cake, even if it’s Deep and Delicious.
{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }
Nobody doesn’t like Sara Lee. If they say they do, they’re full of lies and you should not trust them.
The best part of keeping bacon in the steam table is the delicious bacon bread that is always found at the bottom. After Sunday brunch, it’s the best part of the 25 kg of bacon cooked that day.
Dining is more extreme than ever with increased snobbery, the stakes raised with every bad meal. But the pay-offs can be good when you take a road less traveled, away from the locust hordes that feed on the monotony of popular styles, and economies of scale.
Your conundrum, which is shared by many, is what keeps the UD engines warm at night.
I feel that people, cooks and other “industry” types need to make more of an effort to stay clear of the snobbery that afflicts many in the biz. It’s easy to appreciate food and beverage for what it is. I’m not saying to eat gabage from unclean kitchens, but c’mon – Kraft Dinner has it’s place, as does a steamie at 2 in the morning. It’s all just as “good” as any high end dining experience is, just different because of set and setting.
Making Kraft Dinner with skim milk is just as bad as eating flaccid bacon, but you can’t blame the food for poor execution or the necessities of the set and setting, but many tend to take this shit way, way too seriously. It’s just food and drink after all, pretty basic stuff.
I don’t know if it is so much snobbery, as just plain disappointment. Cooks work so hard for their meager wages, that when going out to eat, they have high expectations AND feel that their hard earned money should not be wasted on poor efforts.
I admit that I have a hard time being happy at most restaurants in town. I enjoy cooking for myself and friends much more. This is because most of the places that I would like to eat at on a regular basis I can’t afford to eat at. The places with prices that I can afford……mostly make me mad. (See ranting reference above.)
Am I a snob? I would like to think not. But I do think that there is far too much complacency in this industry in Vancouver, and little understanding of what truly good food is. There is far too much marketing with catchwords and trends of the moment, and not enough people actually striving for excellence.
That said, one shouldn’t have to go to a fine dining restaurant for an excellent meal. Basic things like contrast of texture, flavour, colour, proper seasoning and balance can be done on a budget. Maybe all we need is to just get back to the basics.
I don’t need something new and trendy. Just give me something done well, and at the proper temperature please.