Why I’m a feeder not a foodie
So the Dubai Food Festival (not to be confused with Taste of Dubai, which is another, um, Dubai food festival) is on at the moment. My Instagram feed (see what I did there) is packed with photos of exquisite little dishes prepared by top chefs snapped by my foodie friends.
“Mmm,” I think suppose I’m supposed to think. “That morsel of something obscure from the bottom of the ocean speckled with space dust harvested from Mars looks yummy. What a clever chef and what a discerning foodie my friend is! Nom-nom!”
But, really, I just don’t get it. Food’s a functional thing to me; I eat to live and not vice versa. Seeing pictures of food is about as interesting to me as seeing, say, pictures of shower gel.
But these days I seem to be surrounded by “foodies” – people who spend their days thinking about, researching, preparing, photographing, writing about and eating beautiful-looking food.
It’s an exclusive club. If you’re not excited by the opening of another restaurant that serves spiced fairy wings with unicorn ice cream in a golden Burj Khalifa-shaped glass, you’re just, like, not cool in Dubai these days.
And I find the whole thing a bit of a paradox because, having said all that, I cook a lot. I probably cook a lot more than many of my foodie acquaintances do – but I don’t love cooking either. I can’t say it makes my toes curl with delight to know I’ve a shepherd’s pie to make before school pick-up.
So, I’m neither foodie nor chef. What I like, though, is to know that the food my family eats is made from love, with good ingredients. It doesn’t matter if their dinner’s not fancy; it doesn’t matter if it’s not trendy. If the food I put on the table is nutritious, if it’s fresh and if the family likes it, that’s enough for me. See you at the LitFest!