Meet the requirements of full food (15USC3391)

According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, a foodie is "a person having an avid interest in the latest food fads." By this definition, I am most assuredly not a foodie. I have no interest in trying to keep up with any trends. After all, I have already failed masterfully with fashion, unable to renew a widespread love for the comfy grunge gear of my college days; flannel shirts, where have you gone? But if I go by the Dictionary.com entry -- "a person keenly interested in food, especially in eating and cooking" -- then I am an undeniable foodie, as my past blog posts and current waistline can attest.

Nonetheless, I refuse to refer to myself as a foodie, because I agree with many of the scathing interpretations of the term on Urban Dictionary, including "a dumbed-down term used by corporate marketing forces to infantilize and increase consumerism in an increasingly simple-minded American magazine-reading audience. The addition of the long 'e; sound on the end of a common word is used to create the sensation of being part of a group in isolationist urban society, while also feminizing the term to subconsciously foster submission to ever-present market sources." But I have to admit that I have suspiciously attended many events that were clearly promoted with marketing ploys of misdirection and misinformation aimed at foodies. So lest you worry about any potential food-based consumerism, isolationism, and feminism affecting me, let me defend some of my recent actions.

I once made TJ go out to dinner three times in 10 days (if you know him at all, you will recognize this for the spousal abuse it is) during Restaurant Week DC. Lucky for him, a similar promotional effort, San Diego Restaurant Week, is separated into two sessions during the year, the second of which was extended to two weeks itself. During the first session, in September, I dragged TJ to only two spots: Cowboy Star (below left) and Roberto DePhilippi's Steakhouse (below right); however, he made the selections, both because of their reputation for good steaks. The former has a butcher shop attached to it, so among its Restaurant Week selections were some unusual cuts; for example, I added a delectable bit of bone marrow to my entree. The latter steakhouse certainly had solid offerings, but its greater attraction was its ambiance: a windowless dining room of red leather and dark wood, complete with waitresses, in fishnet stockings, just this side of Playboy bunnies.

At both places, TJ skipped ordering a martini to try the establishments' signature cocktails, so when the second run of Restaurant Week came around, in January, he definitely grabbed a dirty one at Greystone Steakhouse. This restaurant was a combination of the strengths of the previous two outings: high-quality meats (read: Kobe beef) and high-swank setting. And it serves as an example of why I am not a foodie, but simply a miser. During Restaurant Week, Greystone's set dinner menu -- including an appetizer, entree, and dessert -- is $40 per person. TJ got the New York strip and I got filet mignon, each of which cost more than $40, according to the regular menu, which also listed appetizers and desserts in the $7-$12 range. So you see, we're not snobs, we're just scrooges!

But then again, I bought us tickets to see An Evening with Anthony Bourdain, host of No Reservations and former executive chef at Brasserie Les Halles, at the historic Spreckels Theater (top left) in October. Being a fan of the Travel Channel show probably qualifies me as a foodie, but to be fair, I enjoy Bourdain's cultural commentary as much as anything he describes about eating and preparing food (the episode on his crew's evacuation from Lebanon is actually quite a good primer for Foreign Service staff). I honestly didn't expect to get any good tips on where to dine or what to cook; I just figured he would be a straight-shooting storyteller. And I wasn't disappointed: He showed behind the scenes footage of his travels (top right) and discussed his criticism of the Food Network (which he is now associated with since it's part of the same Scripps Networks conglomerate as his channel) with scorn only slightly toned down from his recent dispute with Paula Deen (bottom). So you see, we're not pompous stuffed shirts, we're just sarcastic smarty-pants!

If going on a food tour isn't the quintessential sign of a foodie, I don't know what is. And yet, in January, I cashed in a Groupon for a Mission Hills Food Tour, which involved walking from neighborhood restaurant to neighborhood restaurant in sort of a rolling dinner. We started with a cheese course at Venissimo (below left), where we sampled five set offerings and picked a few more that looked interesting; my favorite was the cocoa cardona, but we took home an untested wild card: red dragon. We continued with more appetizers at Cafe Bleu, including a braised beef canape and sauteed shrimp with corn relish (below right). This restaurant was definitely a find, especially for its prix fixe menu on Sundays: $17.99 for an appetizer, entree (including coq au vin), and dessert. As the owner told us, it's like Restaurant Week every weekend; and it certainly is a steal, considering the wine pairing costs only a few dollars less than the meal itself: $15.

The food there was so good, that by the time we hit the third stop, I forgot to take pictures, mainly because the food didn't seem as inspired. RK Sushi was where we shifted from appetizer to entree territory, with servings of sunomono salad and pork dumplings. At Olivetto, we dove deep into the meal, with a pear and mascarpone ravioli accompanied with freshly baked focaccia. I was so surprised by the amount of food at the last stop, The Gathering, that I pulled out my camera again. Not only did the restaruant give us a half of a sandwich, a San Diegan, with seafood salad and asparagus (below left), but it was followed up with half a slice of dessert, key lime pie, which seemed like a full slice to me (below right). 

Indeed, by this point many of our fellow food tourists were getting doggie bags. We were so full that when some birthday-celebrating strangers at The Lamplighter, where we stopped for a nightcap, offered us pieces of cake, we declined. So you see, we're not elitist, we're eatists, prejudiced against people who are unable to polish off their plates. We only accept food -- fad or no -- if we can enjoy it fully. And if marketing promotes that food as cheap, interesting, or filling, I guess I'll just have to stand up and say: "Hi, my name is Kim, and I am a foodie."