Last week, in Part I: LARPING.
Part II: Foodies!
Foodies view food as pornography and social media is their gang bang. Becoming a foodie is easy. Just go to a hot new restaurant, order several magnificent dishes, and then take pictures of them until they get cold. Pester the waiter with inane questions about whether the eggplant is actually farm to table. Post pictures of the food on your blog or Facebook page with breezy captions so hundreds of people named Margot, Deirdre, and Aidan can write "mmm soooo delish!" and "OMG MANGOSTEEN EMPANADAS WITH TRUFFLE SHARD DIPPING AREA!" and "I didn't know people ate there anymore. Here's a link to a more authentic experience."
There are multiple sub-classes of foodie: local organic foodie (seen in video), alcohol foodie, baking foodie, authentic ethnic experience foodie, fine dining foodie etc.
Beer foodies are exclusively men, they text you unsolicited pics of perfectly poured Guinness heads and the condensation on a mug of Belgian Pilsner, and they usually, at some point, attempt to brew their own beer. That beer is always execrable, and reeks like asparagus piss. They're harmless though. By contrast, Mixology foodies are usually evil little shits.
Asparapiss, coincidentally, is the name of your city's hottest new restaurant, started by your city's hottest new chef, Simon Something, who apprenticed somewhere French sounding. They charge $54 for a single scallop wrapped in maple bacon and seaweed underneath an asparagus tent...and you'll need to hit Taco Bell after to fill up. Little know fact: Hans Christian Andersen wrote The Emperor's New Clothes after eating at one of these establishments.
Baking foodie is always a woman. After spending countless hours making delicious, intricate pastries gleaned from wheat she picked and threshed herself, she will document her creations, let everyone have a portion, and then throw the rest away because of the carbs. That evening, like a raccoon, you'll sneak into the kitchen to eat cake out of the trash can, shrugging when your third bite reveals a used kleenex stuck to an apple core.
Authentic ethnic experience foodie contrasts the Vietnamese food in Omaha unfavorably to that of Ho Chi Minh City and writes a seventeen paragraph Yelp review describing the injustices and petty slights of their dining experience with every aspect graded on scales of 10.
The review inevitably concludes:
"...and finally, when the waitress, dressed carelessly in Western smart casual rather than culturally sensible silks and a conical hat, brought the check a full minute and a half after I'd first motioned to her, it was in a plain leather holder with a cheap plastic pen from a local regional bank. THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE AND CULTURALLY INAUTHENTIC. An ancestral rice scroll with quill pen fashioned from catfish whiskers and indigo ink from a 12th century Indian spice route would have been more appropriate. The Andes mints were the final blow against good taste and Southeast Asian authenticity. I shall not be darkening this establishment's door again and will continue to bemoan Downtown Omaha's inferior pho offerings. 5/10."
To put foodies in perspective, on a random channel flip I saw an Iron Chef where the winning chef was awarded victory based on the fact that his food - though inferior to that of his opponent in taste on every judge's scorecard - had superior presentation and "originality." Let me repeat: the chef whose food tasted the best lost because he hadn't thought to make a creative but vile-tasting calamari pudding garnished with beet sapphires.
To put foodies in further perspective, I like a cheap little family owned restaurant near my place called Viva Goa. It's Southern Indian/Portugese. I recommended it to a former work colleague - a food snob - who was in town for a while. He ate there. I asked him if he liked it. His response was to sigh, give a thoughtful pause, and say, "The answer really depends on your culinary rubric."
So, that's foodies.