In the March 2011 edition of the Atlantic, the writer B.R. Myers — North Korean expert, hater of books a lot of people like, vegan — launched a broadside against foodie-ism and food writing. Myers took aim at chef-authors like Anthony Bourdain, who celebrates an unabashedly hedonistic approach to eating, and Gabrielle Hamilton, the author of the appropriately titled memoir Blood, Bones and Butter. To Myers, what’s missing in the new foodie literature — and in the growing pop cultural obsession with food, seen in the success of reality shows like Top Chef — is any sense of morality.
Gluttony used to be one of the seven deadly sins, but now guilt has been expunged from good eating as long as food is prepared sustainably. Those in the food movement justly scorn the factory farms that make fast-food hamburgers, Myers notes, so “the contemporary gourmet reacts by voicing an ever-stronger preference for free-range meats from small local farms. He even claims to believe that well-treated animals taste better, though his heart isn’t really in it.”
Myers is being a bit unfair, painting the entire food movement with a broad, bloody brush. Bourdain’s highly successful shtick may involve traveling to foreign countries and scarfing down massive quantities of exotically prepared meat, but Myers ignores the growing body of food writers like Mark Bittman and Tom Philpott who spend more time analyzing the failures of U.S. agriculture subsidies then they do describing the perfect fried chicken. Still, Myers scores a hit: just how sustainable can the food movement be if it still celebrates meat eating, however humanely and carefully farm animals are treated?
