The End of Food Porn?

An article published within the pages of last Wednesday's New York Times tells readers how many restaurateurs are putting the kibosh on their patrons' need to photograph their meals.  Helene Stapinski's "Restaurants Turn Camera Shy" exhibits something that I know so many of us - myself included - are guilty of.

But how guilty are we?

Some people are incredibly culpable.  I have witnessed the cardinal sin spoken of within the article - the firing of a camera's flash - many times.  People who use a flash within a fancy, dimly lit restaurant should have their faces bruleed beneath a thick layer of sugar by the power of a mighty torch.  Though that might just be my perspective.

But what harm is properly documenting a meal that is, for so many, a real occasion?  (Sans flash, naturalment...)

Matt and I, from time to time, will treat ourselves to a lovely meal out at a very special place, usually one we've long talked about going to.  When the check is going into three-digit territory, I guess I don't see the harm in a lousy picture or two of the meal I hope both to remember and share with friends, at least in a visual sense.

I enjoy eating.  I don't know many people who don't.  But how does one preserve those sensory memories from what was, potentially, a meal of a lifetime?  Adjectives only go so far.  Gustatory descriptions evoke snippets of the moment, but a picture (proverbially) is worth a thousand words.

Take, for instance, this image:

It was taken on the 18th of March 2011 in Frederick, MD at VOLT.  Sitting here - honestly - I can tell you that this is rockfish atop a bed of forbidden rice and black trumpet mushrooms.  The foam cloud on the fish was soy-based.

That's without looking at the actual decription, which I have typed elsewhere.  The only thing I cannot put immediate words to is the orange reduction, which I'd wager to have been carrot-based, and what sort of radish that is on the side.  

Nearly two years later, without a photograph, I'd have a truly difficult time remembering anything much about the meal.  (In fact, I was right on the mark - having looked at my contemporary description of the meal.  The only things I missed were the exact nature of the watermelon radishes and the fact that it is indeed a carrot puree... maroon carrots, to be exact.)  

I can tell you the carrots' sweetness played against the earthy nature of the mushrooms.  The slightly toothsome texture of the black forbidden rice juxtaposed with the yielding flesh of the fish was layered with the delicate, salty air of soy foam.  The radishes provided the crisp snap and a bit of spiciness.  

But the picture... oh my.  Seeing it all and hearing how it came together completes an image beyond cost.

I guess we need to think about it this way:  

• Did I pack my hefty DSLR camera?  No, I brought a small point and shoot.  
• Did I harm anyone in the taking of this picture?  Not to my knowledge.
• Did I have to perform some feat of acrobatics to achieve the shot?  Nope.
• Did I somehow break an intellectual property law of the chef's creation?  Not unless you're a real stickler.

The long and short of things is that unless you're being unnecessarily disruptive to a.) your fellow diners; b.) the restaurant staff; or c.) the flow of the courses being presented, I don't see why some of these places are getting a bug up their buns.

The luncheon that day at Volt set us back well over $100.  For that cost we both had a delicious three-course meal and, courtesy of my photographs, a vehicle to remember how wonderful the taste details were, the lovely plating, and a wonderful day out together in a beautiful place.  

In the end, the photographs are worth far more than the meal itself.  

- Bill