Ideassey

“I don’t get my Jamaican beef patties from a pizza place, I want authentic flavor. I’m a foodie,” someone once told me with a smug tone as if they were holding a VIP pass. I quipped, “Bro, it’s a f***ing dollar pizza joint, you’re not in Naples.”

I’ve long held a dislike for the connotation the word “foodie,” much like any other title people arbitrarily toss around, invokes. Now, I like good food, who wouldn’t? Good food can be appealing to different people, as a science, a conversation, an art. Many self-proclaimed foodies inflate authenticity and perceived quality into status symbols. And that obsession with authenticity is unauthentic.

The truth is, you’re rarely going to consume a 100% authentic dish. Every dish has been misheard, poorly recalled, altered according to available ingredients and cultural exchanges over time and geography. Holding present-day dishes and restaurants to impossible standards ignores this inherent fluidity and unless you’re going to book a flight and connect with some remote tribe that lost touch with the rest of civilization centuries ago, I suggest simmering it down.

Beyond the flawed obsession with authenticity, foodie culture often devolves into something more exclusionary: gatekeeping. Gatekeeping is the antithesis of allowing yourself to be open-minded, of being willing to accept you can find some delicious or unique experiences in the most unlikely places. But more than ever, no doubt spurred by social media, it seems there is a foodie cult, elitism hell-bent on hedonistic pursuit and indulging a certain perceived lifestyle of top-rated restaurants and Michelin-starred meals while propping up rules for others to follow.

Food has always been an indicator of social status and lifestyle. Just read Zola’s The Belly of Paris. But food can – and should – be a means of exploration, connection, and appreciating good food whenever you find it, without the pretensions.

However, not everyone dining at these restaurants is a foodie or clout-chasing. For most people, the motivation is more practical. Take tourists for instance:

• “I’m traveling on vacation. This doesn’t exist where I live or I can’t justify spending money on it at home. I’m already spending a ton of money on this trip. Ergo, spending a little more wouldn’t hurt so I’ll try it.” Or the more risk-averse crowd:
• “I want something reliable and the best bang-for-my-buck so I’ll depend on reviews and clear indicators of quality and popularity. No surprises, no wasted money.”

However, all of these mindsets look at food pretty much as a commodity. No matter how different their motives are, each of them shift focus away from the communal aspect of food to one focused on marketing. And marketing and hype often overshadow smaller, humbler places that deliver amazing food without the frills.

I’m not saying you should never eat at a Michelin star establishment or that you can trust the diner with a C-rating plastered on its window. But burn the foodie handbook. Stop pretending food is a checklist for authenticity or a litmus test for class. Food is messy, unpredictable, ever-changing. And that’s what makes it great.