Their canvas bags are full upon leaving exotic food stores, Asian markets or boutiques specializing in spices, cheese or specialty tea. They can be spotted in restaurants featuring the word “fusion” dining on meals starring avocado or aubergine. Their recipes use cumin and an egg from an eagle who lives on Mt. Acotango in Bolivia. Without being prompted, they will name off several varieties of mushroom, tout the benefits of organic, and state with pride that they cannot remember the last time they ate at McDonalds (if ever). They are the North American foodie and they walk among us.
In truth, foodies are great people. I lived with one just after university and I loved the way our kitchen would smell when she experimented with different spices. Furthermore, I do enjoy reading my friend Jess’s blog Sift, Dust & Toss . Although I do not know a thing about “Essiac teas”, she really does love food and it translates into a great read.
I have never really considered myself to be a foodie. However, I must admit, as I expand my horizons, I do find myself growing more and more interested in the foods I eat, trying different things, and gasp! having conversations about my culinary experiences. Another trend of late, if I’m eating something unique, and I have a camera around, I will take a picture of it.
I didn’t used to understood the fascination with food photography. It’s just a meal, right? Yet, on some level, the food you eat, contributes to your surroundings and becomes a part of the narrative. Even this picture above: A sausage dog I bought for $3 in Ottawa. Looking at this photo, it was a gorgeous sunny day in mid-March and I remember being thankful that after several months of winter, I could sit outside and enjoy a sausage dog.
The food we eat can encompass much more. It can symbolize a season, friendship, or love. But rest assured loyal readers. I am not a foodie. At least, I don’t think so…