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I see you all over social media, so I figured it was about time I stepped up to the plate and said something. Like you, I’m wildly impressed when I manage to do anything even remotely adult. When I pay my rent (almost) on time, clean up the slovenly mess I call an apartment, or avoid becoming a complete shitshow long before last call, I can’t help but feel proud. I’m also impressed when I manage to cook up something that’s a step above a grilled cheese, which I have yet to master (the cheese never melts quite right). I understand because when I make a meal that’s impressive, I want to share it with the world, but I somehow contain myself. You, however, do not. When it comes to sharing food (not literally, although that would be preferable), there are 3 types of people.
The Basic Cook
This person is the most boring food photographer on Earth. Their creations make the grub at an Applebee’s look wildly creative. Congratulations, after four years of college you’re competent enough to follow a basic recipe, an impressive feat only in your mind. Somebody better give you a round of applause, or maybe even a medal, but I guess the Facebook likes will have to suffice until then. Like you, I can pour myself a bowl of cereal. Unlike you, I don’t feel the need to brag about this minor accomplishment nightly via every form of social media in existence.
The Amateur Chef
The wannabe chef’s purpose in life is to make the rest of the postgrad world feel terrible, and boy, are they successful. Here I am, eating pizza bagels. There you are, eating braised artichoke hearts lightly sprinkled in sumac. By the time work is over and I’ve contemplated going to the gym (too tired), thought about going to the grocery store (such a schlep), and changed into pajamas (no pants, because I’m living the dream), I usually don’t have it in me to cook up a delicacy or five for one, and then hashtag the hell out of every ingredient. You, my friend, do. Not sure what your day entails that allows you the opportunity, but as I sit here watching the Domino’s pizza tracker, I can’t help but think about inviting myself over for dinner. In fact, I’m at your door.
The Restaurateur
Like most post grads intent on saving literally zero dollars and one day joining the rest of the world in debt, I love going out to eat. I’m happy that “fast casual” dining is the wave of the future, because it’s easy, filling, and dirt cheap, which fits my lifestyle and budget. Obviously as a Parks and Recreation fan I like to treat myself occasionally, but until I inherit a vast sum of money (what, it’s not coming?) I won’t be joining you nightly at the most glamorous restaurants in town. I totally understand why you would want to take a picture of your pot du crème, it looks heavenly, albeit unpronounceable, but every single night? Not sure if you have a sugar daddy or what, but I’m way jealous. Sign me up for your life of decadence.
It is one thing to Instagram a meal or ten. I understand, post grad life is hard, and you want to show off that colorful curry you’re so proud of. We’ve all been there. If you’re a lady posting these pictures, you’re probably hoping the man of your dreams will see the baked goods you made and wife you up. If you’re a guy, you’re probably just excited that you’re not eating a frozen burrito for dinner. Everyone’s entitled to show a meal or two off, but if every picture you’ve ever taken involves food, you either need to get a life or a gym membership.
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