For breakfast, I usually have a cappuccino—espresso made in an Alessi pot and mixed with organic milk, which has been gently heated and hand-fluffed by my husband. I eat two slices of imported cheese—Dutch Parrano, the label says, “the hippest cheese in New York” (no joke)—on homemade bread with butter. I am what you might call a food snob. My nutritionist neighbor drinks a protein shake while her 5-year-old son eats quinoa porridge sweetened with applesauce and laced with kale flakes. She is what you might call a health nut.
Her friend Alexandra is a real piece of work
“This is our charity. This is my giving to the world,” says Alexandra, finally, as she packs lunchboxes—organic peanut butter and jelly on grainy bread, a yogurt, and a clementine—for her two boys. “We contribute a lot.”
Hey, Alexandra, how’s about taking a couple of cases of canned fruit down to the local food bank. Charity means giving to other people, not feeding your kids organic peanut butter. I’ve seen some of those tofu-fed kids here in town. Ten minutes away from their thumbsucking parents, and they fall on a chili dog like a famished wolf.
Apparently neither rich nor poor folks in New York–with the possible exception of Suluki– have ever heard of family meals, stockpots, or shopping for produce in season. Jerks.
Tip from the Instapundit, who always has some good recipes, and prefers Spam to pretension. Do you think he has any good Spam recipes?
Update (20 minutes later). This video is the perfect antidote to all that overwrought foodie claptrap
Update (26 November). Moe Lane agrees with me about that “charity” thing.