If you are reading this, then I assume you are a hip and funky gastronaut, technically savvy, with your sticky donut finger in the eye of the storm of the culinary zeitgeist. It's the same finger you're currently using to swipe through this post on your iPhone whilst ignoring the person you're supposed to be having lunch with. It's ok. They are doing the same, and I doubt they're reading anything as lucid and edgy as this. Carry on.
Now, as someone who likes to keep abreast of developments in the foodsphere, your knowledge of social media will have brought you into contact with the account 'We Want Plates'. Like its contemporary 'Get In The Sea', it exists to puncture the pretentious wankiness of the way in which much modern food is served. I've no doubt that there are a good few chefs actively trying to figure out the most preposterous way of serving a portion of chips, just so they can get their food featured on this account. I've considered buying a load of child size Wellington boots, so you can have that one for free. It's all good fun, to point and laugh, after all, it's just a bit of fun, and what's wrong with injecting levity into meal times?
We could stop there, but I think it is interesting to wonder how we ended up with this current state of affairs. Chefs have always done silly things with food. We cook when we are not hungry, or at least we cook to satisfy needs that go beyond the bounds of mere sustenance, and in an effort to get noticed, otherwise sensible and able cooks sometimes do ridiculous things, such as serve bread in a flat cap. Undoubtedly, what has fed this tidal wave of pretentious gimmickry is the ever growing dependence of the foodbiz to be visually appealing.
We've been here before. When browsing cookbooks in Waterstones, how often do we stop to read the recipes? More likely than not, we flip through and check the pictures. Now celebrating it's silver anniversary, who can doubt that Bob Carlos Clarke's enigmatic monochrome photography is the primary selling point of White Heat? The colour studio shots of Marco Pierre White's immaculately composed dishes are still stunning however, but to modern eyes they seem oddly stiff and dated. Where is the microcress? Where are the edible flowers and and smears?
The truly ridiculous thing is that fashion controls the way chefs put food on plates as surely as it dictates the waistline of their designer denims, and it's a treadmill in which we are all complicit. The primacy placed on food's visual appeal, despite the decrease in popularity of 'fayn daynin' is now stronger than ever, and the major catalyst for this has been the growth of social media. A picture speaks a thousand words, but those words take time to read, and sometimes they are about boring things, like ingredients and technique.
I'm as guilty as the next person in relying on photography to give me an instant hit. Go to a chef or restaurant's website, or more likely Twitter feed, and the first thing you do is check the gallery, or swipe through the photos, because it's so much easier to take in at a glance. I'm also culpable in using food photography in my quest for self promotion, and more importantly, to push the public perception of what our kitchen is capable of. On the whole, I don't think food photography is a bad thing, but (I can hear the cliché counter clocking up), we've well and truly put the cart before the horse. It's this self perpetuating treadmill of presentation that is in danger of occluding what really matters.
I ate once in a restaurant which we might refer to as a serial offender. A young couple were out on a date at the table next to me. The bread came out in a flat cap. Whilst the young chap popped to the loo, she took a photo with her phone. When laddo returned, the process was repeated. Everyone smiled. The problem is, as long as gastronomic success is predicated on theatrical bullshit, we will continue to miss what really matters. Those boring things like craft, knowledge, ingredients and technique will continue to take a back seat as long as chefs and restaurants cater to the basic needs keeping up with fashion. It's time for a rethink. Yes, we want plates, but it's time we also started calling for substance over style, ability over trickery. Everything else can get in the sea.
I'm as guilty as the next person in relying on photography to give me an instant hit. Go to a chef or restaurant's website, or more likely Twitter feed, and the first thing you do is check the gallery, or swipe through the photos, because it's so much easier to take in at a glance. I'm also culpable in using food photography in my quest for self promotion, and more importantly, to push the public perception of what our kitchen is capable of. On the whole, I don't think food photography is a bad thing, but (I can hear the cliché counter clocking up), we've well and truly put the cart before the horse. It's this self perpetuating treadmill of presentation that is in danger of occluding what really matters.
I ate once in a restaurant which we might refer to as a serial offender. A young couple were out on a date at the table next to me. The bread came out in a flat cap. Whilst the young chap popped to the loo, she took a photo with her phone. When laddo returned, the process was repeated. Everyone smiled. The problem is, as long as gastronomic success is predicated on theatrical bullshit, we will continue to miss what really matters. Those boring things like craft, knowledge, ingredients and technique will continue to take a back seat as long as chefs and restaurants cater to the basic needs keeping up with fashion. It's time for a rethink. Yes, we want plates, but it's time we also started calling for substance over style, ability over trickery. Everything else can get in the sea.
