“Or maybe it was because I had never been initiated into the increasingly obvious boy’s club, the club that encourages deadlifts and pull-ups and cold, metallic weights. I had been initiated into a different club, one with calorie counting and cardio. The boundary between these two clubs seemed impenetrable.”
“An insincere sense of politeness is as natural as air at BC. We all do it. I certainly do.”
“I try not to give in to food snobbery, but I can’t help thinking that Blue Apron has taken art and creativity out of the kitchen.”
“Get a low-paying, low-dignity job. You will be exposed to more service than you could have ever dreamed.”
First, you must turn off the Food Network. It pains me to say it, as someone who wants to continue the conversation about cooking, but those dumbed-down, high-drama reality shows add little to the celebration of food.
“So what do you do? Who wins the war? Do you give in to the guilt, replacing pleasure with self-discipline? Do you militarize the dinner table, watching each forkful with the distrustful eye of a dictator? Or do you let freedom ring? Do you eat what you want, when you want, dietary norms be damned?”
Although food can in some ways draw lines of distinction, it also bridges gaps. When we eat, we experience the culture from which that food came.
Food does more than just physically sustain us—it provides comfort, connection, and perhaps even love. It can bridge any cultural gap and forge bonds between anyone willing to prepare a dish or take a bite. Instagram facilitates this relationship, allowing the emotional bonds of the dinner table to preserve in an increasingly globalized world.
