I’ve become a snob

snob
noun

1. a person with an exaggerated respect for high social position or wealth who seeks to associate with social superiors and dislikes people or activities regarded as lower-class.
2. a person who believes that their tastes in a particular area are superior to those of other people.

   “a musical snob”

I’m not happy about it.

I’m someone who eats with people making seven figures for dinner, then eats off the taco truck for lunch with a bunch of Mexicans the next day. Although I usually prefer the taco, I’m comfortable having both meals and value both relationships. I don’t distinguish people by their social class, their political affiliation, their color.  I take everyone as they come. But now I’m a snob, and it’s all Drew’s fault.

See Drew has been putting his recipes on our blog for a few weeks now. Darling Wifey decided she would start cooking Drew’s recipes to make sure he wasn’t putting on airs. I reluctantly tried Drew’s first recipe, chorizo and mussels and this was the result. 

So last week, we had the opportunity to go to Ocracoke on a home schooling field trip. I got to tag along because Miguel and Vicente were here to keep things under control (thanks guys!). It also afforded me a chance to get off the farm, do some long range planning, get my to do list in order, that kind of thing. We ate breakfast and lunch in the house we rented because it’s cheaper. But SWMBO decided we’d go out to dinner. The first night was a rush job and we picked a touristy place because they had crab legs, and that’s what Wildflower wanted. The food was “meh” but whatever. The last night there, I picked the place. A local had recommended it and it was indeed the best place on the island. As we peruse the menu, I see a shrimp purloo on the menu.

Chorizo, bacon, shrimp. This is like that thing Drew did! I’ll get that!

Everybody’s food comes out and there are lots of happy sounds as everybody chows down. The wife even compliments me, in front of her mother, about how I always pick the best restaurants. Compliments in front of the mother in law are hard won prizes for us husbands. I’m ecstatic.

I take a bite of my purloo and it’s good. I mean, the broth is kind of watery, not rich like Drew’s, but good. And the shrimp is kind of bland, not like the briney bite of Drew’s mussels. But it’s good. Well, the bacon tastes odd. Not like our bacon, but I’m used to that. And it’s still bacon so that’s good. This chorizo is weird. It’s hard and flavorless, more like beef jerky. No bite like our chorizo, just a blank puck of meat. And the rice is kinda watered down, not like the rich broth and fresh bread SWMBO had. I mean, it’s good… but not as good as is if had our ingredients in it. I resist the sudden urge to go to the kitchen and explain to the chef that he’d really have something if he sourced his ingredients from us instead of US Foods.

I related this story to a couple of people. Then I added in how I don’t order pork chops when I go out anymore because I’m always disappointed they don’t taste like ours. And steaks taste funny now if I order one when we are out, either like cardboard or with some off flavor. And my kids won’t even eat store bought bacon anymore, even if I cook it at home. They know the difference. In fact Spork related a story of a sleep over just this past weekend where they served him bacon. He politely DECLINED TO EAT because it was store bought. He didn’t decline to the eat the bacon, he didn’t eat at all!

We’ve become food snobs, me especially. Not snobs of a certain restaurant, or a certain style of cooking. No, we’re snobs that if it we or one of our partner farms didn’t raise it, then it’s inferior. As I related all this, exasperated over what has happened, they all had the same reaction.

“Of course you have. You can’t compare your food to what you get anywhere else.”

“But, but, I’m not a snob! I..”

“Shh, it’s ok. Now go make more cows and don’t worry about it.”

I’m working on the cows but I’m still worried about it. Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery, right?