We live in a world where food is no longer simply enjoyed. It's obsessed over, with each bite photographed and every single ingredient traced back to its origins like some sort of artisanal Ancestry.com. This increased fetishization of food has spawned the food snob, whose borderline psychosis makes even the simple act of enjoying a meal into an endless parade of ridiculous behavior. They come in all shapes and sizes. These are the most common species.
The Yelp Elitist
She only goes to restaurants with more than 3.5 stars and picks apart everything about them, from the server’s inability to promptly seat them without a reservation on a Friday to the lack of a good burger at a sushi place. She refers to herself as a journalist to the hostess, her server, and the busboy who cleans the table.
“I’ll have the porterhouse -- but instead of beef, can I get rainbow trout?” He bears a strong resemblance to Tom Berenger.
She adopts a strange accent for every single non-New American restaurant she enters, and insists on over-pronouncing every single menu item with the precision of a third-grader reading an English translation dictionary. In fact, she is known to carry said dictionary, or at least a translation app that also tells her how to say “thank you” and “hello” (incorrectly) in the language of the cuisine’s origins, despite the fact that the joint is run by a white hipster who simply likes tikka masala. Er, “maaaaah-saaaaay-laaaaah.”
Nothing is ever up to his liking. The sashimi, for one, is undercooked. Still can’t tell the difference between “rare” and “medium rare,” so he picks one and hopes for the best.
The Steakhouse Vegetarian
She was extremely excited to try this great new restaurant everybody’s raving about, but can’t hide her disgust when she discovers Bleedy McSinew’s Steak & Slaughterhouse doesn’t have very diverse vegan options. Seriously, not one seitan dish?
The minute you walk in the door with this human megaphone, he’s already telling everybody within earshot that he knows the chef or the owner. This habit hits a wonderful crescendo at the magical moment when he tells the owner he knows the owner.
He wants to know the origins of every single thing on the menu, and will sigh occasionally in disapproval if the salt is from a sea of his disliking (ugh, Aegean again?). He has a favorite farm within 30mi of the restaurant, and gets strangely excited if his chicken comes from within its fences.
The "Healthy" Eater
He equates the word “organic” with healthy, which completely justifies a morning ritual of steamed organic whole milk with 14 pumps of sugar-free vanilla syrup.
The Authenticity Seeker
The best days of his life are the ones where he realizes he is the only white person in a restaurant, because that is the ultimate sign of authenticity. His favorite restaurant is a Korean BBQ that’s actually run by a Japanese family.
She hasn’t had a hot meal in years, mainly because she spends five minutes meticulously photographing each dish from multiple angles. This doesn’t stop her from sending each dish back because it’s cold.
The Tableside Critic
He spends most of the meal commenting on each and every ingredient, and punctuating each sentence with weird and semi-pornographic grunts. Each sentence includes at least one of the following words: dry, succulent, transcendent, uninspired, pedestrian, ambitious, flat, robust, and panoply. He often produces a small notepad from thin air and scribbles in it while smiling smugly.
The Offal Eater
She bases her every eating habit on her DVD boxed set of Bizarre Foods, and gets giddily excited at the appearance of tripe or beef heart on a menu. She refuses to eat hot dogs, despite their consisting of nothing but organs wrapped in intestines.
He visited Belgium and London this year (it was a layover en route to Belgium, but still!) and keeps complaining about how the "frites" in the US just don’t hold up, then refers to the same fries as “chips” two sentences later. He is extremely excited about his upcoming trip to Prague. Everybody else is dreading it.
The Trend Humper
His pantry is full of unused artisanal salt. He is still attempting to grow his own kale, but hasn’t had time to tend to it because he’s constantly standing in line outside a posh bakery waiting for the next Cronut to drop. His freezer is full of bones, but he insists it's to make broth, not because he’s Jeffrey Dahmer. He knows the best way to relax is by drinking coconut water with chia seeds in it.
The Review Groupie
She keeps track of every restaurant review published in local papers, and every weekend hits up the featured spots, orders the same thing as the critic, and immediately writes her own counter-review on the paper’s website. The New York Times has filed multiple restraining orders against her.
The Comparison Eater
“Sure, this beef Wellington is OK, but have you had the one at the restaurant down the street?” she asks extra loudly, just in case the chef is listening. Or the servers. Really, just in case anyone is listening at all.
It’s all about the irony. He always suggests you eat at Applebee’s... because it’s ironic! He’ll show up at a fancy dinner party with a couple Totino’s Party Pizzas... FOR IRONY! Eventually, you find out that he’s super broke and likes to eat garbage. And like Alanis, he doesn't know what ironic means.
The Slightly Racist Street-Food Condescender
Sure it's Queens, and he's selling arepas out of a food truck, but you don't need to shout slowly over-articulated words at him. He was probably born in Iowa and knows what "ah-voh-caaah-doh" is.
The Basic Foodie
Organic avocado on 12-grain toast and kale smoothies for life!
The Late-to-the-Party Foodie
"Dude, have you heard about this Cronut thing?!"
He relishes in combing alleys, road shoulders, forests, and parks looking for dandelion leaves, mustard greens, or any other weed he can claim to like. He has bravely plucked an edible flower that touched a discarded prophylactic at least once, and at least twice has been accused of being a prowler.
He swears by MSG, and puts Big Mac sauce on his foie gras. He also insists that the word "hipster" has lost all meaning.
The Home Chef
Each dish served is an inferior version of the same dish he cooked up in his kitchen, which is pretty strange considering he eats out three times a day and doesn’t seem to know what a soufflé actually is, despite talking about them all the damn time.
He is constantly mistaken for a foodie, but he’s eating foie gras because he likes it, not because he read about it on Eater. And he sounds condescending because he’s from Marseille.