“How many times have you been trying to go to dinner with four or five people and you can’t decide because everyone wants something different?” Ringo asked me. “A lot of little authentic ethnic restaurants in Minnesota are, to be perfectly frank, in places suburbanites aren’t comfortable, or aren’t comfortable parking... [Too many insane quotes to post, just read it.]
No! NO!!!!!! What a fucking asshole! Even though I have some unresolved issues with the local foods movement, it’s a hell of a lot better than Sysco or U.S. Foods. Is this really what suburbanites want? Really? Are you people so daft? Do you really think that “ketchup is a spice”? Good lord.
Oh my god I think I threw up at least 2 satays last night.
CHECK CHECK CHECK IT!
Happy New Year, everybody! Check out that blue moon (but don’t drink Blue Moons because Miller is anti-LGBT)!
See you in 2010,
Last night, Chris pulled together a light dinner for two of chicken salad, multigrain toast, and bruschetta topping. Though I was initally skeptical of eating a mayonnaise-based dish that came from a dumpster, I am still indigestion-free and kickin’ it new school. Admittedly, I have been pondering the pros and cons of dumpster diving ever since I got to Minneapolis.
Fortunately for me, it was Chris who took the first step. He and his friends drove out to a particularly welcoming dumpster (location withheld to preserve the sanctity of the hoard) in the middle of the night and grabbed around $50-$80 worth of groceries, including tangerines, lamb, tons of bread, tomatoes, and convenience food.
One of our acquaintances — Chris’s dumpster field guide — boasts that he hasn’t had to buy groceries for a year now. The prospect is pretty tempting, especially now that Snowmageddon 2009 has already hit the Upper Midwest and the outside temperature isn’t even close to the danger zone for food (40-140 degrees Fahrenheit, last I checked). I’m also living paycheck to paycheck, so the added savings are a pretty big draw. As I’m writing this post, however, I’m chomping on a slice of dumpstered Asiago bread, so I think I’m dancing around a foregone conclusion: snobbery is overrated.
Every single one of The Affair‘s ads features fancy hetero white people enjoying wine or blandly chic food, and this whole thing leaves a terrible, terrible taste in my mouth. I mean, I could ignore it, but their ads are all over the Heavy Table’s website, so what can I do? Someone’s got to call them out, I guess.
Representation is the most pertinent issue here — how can anyone justify the racial content of these ads? The ads are (typically) all about sexual desire, so perhaps the ad agency thought it would be too tricky to throw a racial minority — let alone a brunette — into the mix. Instead, the undesirable physical presence of racial minorities is sublimated onto the food-spectacle, which is the only colored element of the photos. The work of the underclass is presented to the white male to finger, consider, and devour. To put it simply, who’s cooking the food that rich white Americans love? Hint: they don’t all look like Bobby Flay!
I could go on and on about the willful racial ignorance of this ad, but I didn’t want to forgo touching on its sexual dysfunctions as well. The humor in the photo depends on a comparison between a woman and food. Both are presented as sensory stimuli for the man to choose between. And the winner, of course, is food, because it won’t ask you to cuddle after you consume it. We are in truly good company when we’re being compared to cocktail shrimp.
Boo on you, Affair! However, I’m sure someone out there disagrees with me, so feel free to leave a comment and turn this into something more constructive. Should this kind of advertising be shoved into our faces without protest?
Found at Value Village in Richfield, MN. Currently hanging in my kitchen.