Every time I crunch into a fuyu persimmon I feel guilty, like when I read the Times online or ignore my local bookstore for a cheaper copy on Amazon or Alibris.
The great anthropological cookbooks of the 1960s and 1970s have been all but replaced by the fluffy side-projects of TV personalities, further alienating home cooks from their kitchens.
When food becomes a mask for snobbery and pretension the foodie underground ceases to be a movement and starts to become nothing more than a demographic.
1 Comment