"Feels like an Arby's night"

When the NYT gave an ethnographic-condescending review of Victoria's Secret, I was on the case. End-of-semester craziness prevented me from getting to what's basically the same article, but by other people and about chain restaurants rather than mass-produced thongs. Other bloggers have already covered this ground--see this link for more links to such posts. I don't have much to add--the genre of NYT-covers-America-from-bemused-vantage-point-high-above is not doing anyone any favors.

That said, what is a native New Yorker to do? It's not as though coming from New York makes a person immune to parochialism or, more positively, warm-and-fuzzy thoughts of childhood. If your childhood memories are of Manhattan, then, through no fault of your own, they happen to coincide with that which is valued by American elitists generally. You can declare your openness to "real America" and come off as patronizing, or extol the virtues of arugula (a relatively inexpensive vegetable that for some reason symbolizes the elite) and come off as snobbish. All you can do is shed some light on the realities of life in the city. Just as not everyone from an exurb has corn-dogs for every meal, native New Yorkers (some of us, at any rate), eat far more Twix bars than tiny $4 squares of 77%-cocoa chocolat. Hey there, Upper East Siders, the vending machine's gone empty!

The food-snobbery question I've been meaning to write about, though, is not gourmet products but rather the question of cuisine and authenticity. Should we care if a restaurant is authentic? Clearly those homesick for a certain cuisine demand accuracy, but if you're trying the cuisine of a place you've never visited and may never have a chance to see, what does it matter if the food accurately replicates what one could get in that place? I've never been to Thailand and cannot foresee having any reason to go there. So I cannot assess how the Pad Pak at Chelsea Thai is or is not like the real thing, nor do I know if there is even a real thing called "Pad Pak." For all I know the phrase means "stupid food for Westerners." It's not that this is unknowable without visiting Thailand, but the point is, there's a good chance in NYC that one gets exposure to more cuisines than to cultures and languages in any other capacity.

So... part of me thinks, if the food tastes good, who cares? The only reason we expect "authentic" food to taste better is that natives of every other place try the Americanized version of their home cuisine and are disappointed... causing native-born Americans to believe the real thing is superior, when it's only "better" in that it is for some the cooking of one's homeland. But if cuisine is to be an educational experience, then I am missing out on something when my experience of Belgian cuisine is that of a skim cappuccino and a blueberry muffin at Pain Quotidien. This is clearly an important problem, so discuss amongst yourselves.

Long story short, if this post is rambling, I blame the wine and cheese (and more cheese) I consumed at the French Department's end-of-the-year party. It was authentic and delicious.