Foodie

We self-professed foodies liked to meet in restaurants and talk like experts about what we were eating.

She offers crayfish with white feet or red . . . three ways, tends stove in high heels, slips into the small Art Deco dining room of Restaurant d'Olympe—a funeral parlor of shiny black walls and red velvet—to graze cheeks with her devotees, serious foodies, and, from ten on, tout Paris, the men as flashily beautiful as their beautiful women.

Foodies are the ones talking about food in any gathering—salivating over restaurants, recipes, radicchio. They don't think they are being trivial–Foodies consider food to be an art, on a level with painting or drama.

“Foodie” has now pretty much everywhere replaced “gourmet”, perhaps because the latter more strongly evokes privilege and a snobbish claim to uncommon sensory discrimination—even though those qualities are rampant among the “foodies” themselves.

While the Foodie Handbook is now decades old, its message strikes a chord with contemporary foodie discourse, touching on themes like the abysmal quality of mainstream food (e.g., “cheese in plastic-wrapped portions”), the appeal of foodie accoutrement like chefs' knives and gas stoves, as well as the importance of thinking and talking about food (as opposed to just eating well—“pigs can eat well”) (1984: 6–7).