O brave new world, that has such bloggers in it

THINGS were shaping up nicely.

There I was, at the launch party for Coast’s new Alberni Street location. The restaurant was chic and packed with attractive guests, the seafood fresh and fine, the servers smooth, the drinks instantly replaced. Could the evening get any better?

And then came the cherry on top. A relatively young man hailed me in a friendly fashion, something that only comes to me now courtesy of panhandlers and shamelessly tip-hungry bellhops. I sat down at a table for two with this fellow, whom I had apparently met before. Since I had evidently so impressed "Herman" that he remembered me -- “And who wouldn’t?” I asked myself hopefully -- I was eager to chat. We had both loaded our plates with sushi and other treats, so I initiated a conversation by asking Herman which he liked best.

Too late. He was already fully engaged, taking pictures of each roe-covered, nori-wrapped whatzit like he was Annie Leibovitz and the sushi was Hollywood’s foxiest ingénue. Instantly silenced, I slugged back another cocktail as Herman deftly zoomed in for extreme close-ups of the spicy tuna sushi roll and crisp calamari served in a paper cone. In this 100% seafood environment, where even the wallpaper glimmered with underwater creatures, I’d never felt more like chopped liver.

Between photos, Herman pecked away feverishly on his gadget -- whether it was a Crackberry or a Me-Myself-and-iPhone, I have no idea. When I asked what he was doing, he said he was sending a tweet to his flicker or some such. It was then that I realized that experiencing a party in the moment was, for Herman,  no longer the point. It was “reporting” on it -- applying to his analysis of the seafood buffet the intensity of Christiane Amanpour grilling Osama bin Laden -- that was the focus of this blogger’s evening.

I had to wonder about the recipients of Herman's news flash. Who could possibly be waiting so raptly for an account of the vittles at a bash they weren’t attending that they couldn’t even hold out until the party was over?

This was certainly not the first time I’d seen people take pictures of their food. I’ve done it myself, for travel stories that were being printed by actual newspapers or magazines. But in this new world, where everybody who’s ever licked gravy off a knife considers him- or herself a “food blogger,” it’s apparently de rigueur to move your plate into the most flattering light before digging in -- with a digital camera and flash.

My husband Stanley is certainly an offender. He has several blogs, one of them about barbecue, and he’s littered Facebook with innumerable shots of glistening black pork butts. Since Stanley takes far more pictures of the food he cooks than he does of his wife or children, this Hallowe’en, we plan to put on lumpy, greasy, soot-coloured papier-mache masks and go as his dream family.

He’s got plenty of company, however. Stanley recently led a barbecue workshop for a group of 35 foodies, many of whom took photos and blogged during the presentation. By the time he got home, more than 350 photographs -- most of them of pieces of meat -- had been posted by participants in the workshop on Flickr, which I’ve now learned is an online photo sharing site.

When Stanley proudly announced this to our daughter and me, we were baffled. “Dad, you know you’re not Michael Jackson, right?” Petunia asked.

Were there really readers waiting breathlessly for these Internet posts about what kind of drizzle coated the lamb popsicles, I enquired. He gave me that look he always gives me when I question the “wonders” of modern technology, the look that says I must have been quite a firecracker back in the Boer War.

I once again told Stanley that there’s an awful lot of broadcast in the social networking universe, but I doubt there’s much reception. He’s so enamored of this new form of communication -- which some employers call “social not-working” -- that he teaches workshops on it.

He explained to me that there’s a phenomenon known as the “long tail.” It’s exemplified by the Internet music site iTunes, where people purchase songs or albums, downloading them directly onto their computers. A large proportion of the songs sold on iTunes are by the top 100 or so artists, he said, but trailing away from that bulk like a long tail are more obscure musicians, whose recordings are purchased by small pockets of cultish fans.

Individually, Stanley continued, these lesser-known artists may not be top-sellers, but cumulatively they make up a huge proportion of online music sales. They also gain more customers and prestige from being readily available on iTunes. Likewise, Stanley feels that with all the twittering and blogging about his BBQ workshop, his new cookbook and barbecue sauces will get increasing exposure. This buzz is sure to fan out until he becomes King of the World -- or whatever it is he’s got planned.

As always, I scoffed.

We have this argument frequently. Other couples fight about money or in-laws -- we fight about social networking. I accuse most bloggers of writing stuff that nobody wants to read. Stanley accuses me of turning my back on the pre-eminent way to market oneself in the new millennium.

According to him, I’m a weird troll who lives under a bridge, hiding out from humanity. In the throes of this recent debate, Stanley suggested that if I had my own barbecue sauces, I would market them under the brand Trolls ‘R’ Us. He claimed that if anybody wanted to buy my sauce, I would tell them it wasn’t for sale. If they asked if it were good, I’d say, “Well, you’ll certainly never find out.”

Petunia chimed in with her impression of the attitude that might be encountered by any caller wishing to order my sauces by phone. She felt the Trolls‘R’Us recording would say, “If you’d like to get lost, press one. If you’d like to bite me, press two. If you’d like to speak to a real Trolls’R’Us salesperson, press three.” If they did press three, the recorded voice would say “Kidding!” and then hang up.

It’s all true. I’m a useless self-promoter, and a tearer-down of other people’s marketing efforts. When I was growing up, self-aggrandizement was seen as a crime. I thought that was the Canadian way. But now there’s the World Wide Web, and anything goes.

Pity.

Comments

[Kristen]

Amen, amen and amen Alexandra Gill!!!

Oy! When did the whole darn world have it's sense of humour surgically removed?!

Lighten up, indeed!!

Go, Kate go!!!

[Jane Mundy]

Sounds like some of these food bloggers have another thing in common besides taking foodie pics: they've lost their sense of humour! Lighten up you lot!

[Alexandra Gill]

The only thing funnier than this post is the indignation of the self-righteous food bloggers who responded. Rock on, Kate!

[Paul Kamon]

Like a person who hates surfing getting swept up in a tsunami, Kate, I think you humorously and begrudgingly know the only possible answer is to start swimming, or find a really big boat to cling to, but unfortunately they are sinking too.

Check this article: http://www.time.com/time/business/article/0,8599,1902604,00.html

[David Murray]

Well said, Kate the great:

"I once again told Stanley that there’s an awful lot of broadcast in the social networking universe, but I doubt there’s much reception."

Not much, but some. Which beats none. Which is why we blog. If a tree falls in Facebook, does it rate a "poke"?

[Jer Thorp]

Kate,

From another Foodist - thanks for the great article. I thought it was mostly tongue-in-cheek, nicely self-deprecating, and quite well written.

We food bloggers live in a world of our own, and I think we often deserve to be laughed at. We certainly don't get a free pass on etiquette. As you point out, sometimes we can get so caught up in our bloggerly pursuits that we can end up being anti-social. You have another excellent point:

"Who could possibly be waiting so raptly for an account of the vittles at a bash they weren’t attending that they couldn’t even hold out until the party was over?"

I couldn't agree more. I remember climbing the stairs at Notre Dame in my 20s, behind a pair of tourists who must have taken 300 photos on their way to the top. They were forgoing the sensory experience in order to have a good slide show - something I think a lot of food bloggers can be guilty of.

-Jer

[Ron Shewchuk]

Le Stanley, c'est moi!

Mark, the food blogger Kate mentions is a different guy altogether.

I think Kate is smart and funny, and I love her curmudgeonly stance on social media. She keeps me grounded, and entertained, and when I read her stuff I laugh out loud. And I laugh loudest when she takes the piss out of me.

Didn't anyone notice she pokes fun at herself, too?

There are some great stories by her in my new book, by the way. Have a look -- you'll get a few good laughs, I think.

[Eagranie]

CJ - ahhh, but you see, the article that you refer to was written for an "actual newspaper," which is clearly a more legitimate medium than a lowly blog.

Don't get me wrong. I agree that in some cases, the internet has made mere eaters into food critics, but let's not make sweeping blanket statements. As Mark points out, it isn't clear whether this post - oh, excuse me, *article* - is a rant against rude dining partners, smartphones, Twitter, blogging, or Michael Jackson.

And, as Meg points out, we'll gloss over the irony of writing about how food bloggers suck...and putting it on your (incredibly self-conscious) blog.

I was one of those people at Stanley's barbecue event, tweeting and posting the play-by-play. Stanley was magnificent: a gracious host and brilliant teacher. But your description of him here strikes me as really dismissive and disrespectful. You may have been aiming for sarcastic and sardonic, but it certainly doesn't come across that way.

More than anything, that's what bothers me about this post. Sure, talk about random bloggers and call them out for bad table manners and for being self-absorbed. But to speak about your partner the way that you do? Pity.

[Mark Busse]

Wait a second, is Stanley the food blogger taking photographs or her husband? Or both? Now I'm really confused.

[cj]

hmm, odd post considering the food posts written on this blog.

O brave new world that is just that, new.

Let us embrace our idiosyncracies and move on shall we?

http://katezimmerman.typepad.com/kate_of_late/2006/10/bcs_best_restau.html