Bon Appetit, Bucko

To those whom it may slightly concern:

It has occurred to me recently as I purused a copy of the latest "Bon Appetit" magazine that there are many addictions in this world, and many perverse obsessions to be enflamed and fed. I am writing this letter both to draw attention to those perversions which are espoused and propagated by culinary arts magazines, and to nullify the perceived acceptability of said perversions. I am going to take as my example two popular magazines, copies of which can be most conveniently purchased at your local convenience store (convient, yes?): "Rolling Stone", and "Bon Appetit".

Now at first glance, one may posit that they have very little in common. The absolute crass fluff of the first is rendered immaterial when compared with the joyful, artistic, useful dynamism of "Bon Appetit"’s representation of the latest culinary masterpieces—the skill in the cooking process, from conception to creation, the creativity, the absolute sensual dream into which the connoisseur is plunged when spooning up the first light, smooth, florally aromatic bite of rich cherry-almond ice cream, featured on the cover of the July issue.How, then, could "Rolling Stone"’s gross hyper-realized exhibition of the female body compare to the uniquely satisfying utilitarianism of Bon Appetit? What similarities, one might ask, could there be between such a tasteless appeal to our already-abused sex drive, and a tasteful (in all ways) aid to our culinary creativity and ability to join with community around the superb, God-given gift of food?

I would, for an answer to the above questions, request most humbly that you take a long look at the pictures on the respective covers of the two magazines in question. And as you do, allow me to point out a couple of similarities, and the ideals underlying those similarities. The pornography industry operates upon one over-arching, guiding principle. That principle is, as I stated before, hyper-realization. The sexuality which is actualized in pornographic magazines, soft- or hardcore, is a flagrant misrepresentation of the reality in which we are actually immersed. The real, intimate act of sexual intercourse is, as most would agree, a deeply private and beautiful act, and a far cry from the mechanistic pleasure, electronic music and 12-inch……




....high heels (gotcha) of the porn industry.

“So?” you might ask. “Where’s the problem?” Allow me to explain. The hyper-realization of the images creates for the avid reader a world of illusions, a world of concepts, as Nietzche would say, the aesthetic fog of which renders the reader’s perception of reality vain, distorted, confused--the problem with the most beautiful, glorious, technicolor dream is that it is an elusive and ethereal phantom conjured by the bizarrities of the sleep-washed brain, and will never be any more or any less than that—a dream, a ghost, an unreality. To indulge oneself in these dreams as part of everyday life, to placate the waking mind’s sexual hungers with fantastic visions, will lead to the creation of a world in which the reader is a constant dreamer, in which a human is living in a hyper-realized conjuration. And that waking fantasy-world is all-absorbing, and yet completely unfulfilling, as it can never become a reality.

Those who are caught in the unmerciful claws of such an unending fantasy will find themselves ever-hungry and never-fulfilled, because their unrealistic concept of what would be fulfilling, dictated by the porn industry in this case, can never be actualized, can never be real. Once one is convinced that the imaginary is the only thing worth embracing, it is hard to be satisfied with reality, with what is true. And so the dreamer, forgetting he is in a dream-land, forgetting that what he desires has been conditioned by fictitious representations, wanders, ever-hungry, cold, and despairing, in search for that which he will never find. He has, through blatant indulgence in his sexual desires, through embracing the pornography industries’ methods of ensuring his continued dependency and their own continued economic growth, welcomed into himself a system of thought in which he becomes a puppet, buying, consuming ever more of the lude sexual images in a search for a perfect gratification which does not exist.

Sounds pretty hopeless and probably very overstated when I put it like that, doesn’t it? Right now you’re probably thinking that I should find myself a “nice Jewish boy” (as my mother used to say) and calm down. Quit ranting and let the economy do what it needs to do. But stick with me here. Let me try to summarize what I’ve said so far:

Consumerism exploits a naturally-occurring drive or hunger, in this case the sex drive. It convinces us fully that fulfilling that desire is central to our survival or happiness. It then presents us with an alternate world of illusions, constructed by the perfect forms and images we consume. Thus it ensures that we will always have the drive to buy, as we will always desire and never attain the images projected by these fantasy-writers. The images are hyper-, or over- real. They are fake. And yet our perverted hunger perpetuates our need to consume, dictating that we continue the search in an attempt to attain the perfection displayed by this un-world. So: We are told that some thing is vitally important. We are shown what this thing is. We are then asked to go out and find it. Unfortunately, the thing for which we are looking is not real. And so we must keep searching, keep consuming, forever. Not a bad plan for the money-makers, right?

But here’s the kicker: as we explore our fantasy world, haunting the perfect streets in the endless hunt for the perfect life dictated by our gods, those perfect idols we see on the magazine covers, we forget to embrace our reality-world. We forget the beauty of the real world, we forget the necessity of searching for and embracing ourselves and our own growth, so engrossed are we in a search for imaginary beauty. Is the importance of seeing this alternate reality for what it is beginning to make sense? We spend our lives looking for happiness in a system which operates by perpetuating our unhappiness. Thus we never grow and we never learn how to embrace the real world. Keep us searching and they’ll keep us consuming, that’s the idea-makers’ motto.

So what does "Bon Appetit" have to do with all of this?

Let’s all pick up our copy of the magazine and take another look at the silky, rich darkness of the smoothly bittersweet chocolate, shining like the sins of kings, whose sensual embrace ever-so-lightly caresses the startlingly beautiful and delicate pink cream of that cherry-almond confection (or as I like to call it, “Miss July”). Tell me—have you ever seen an ice cream cone that stunning in your life? I would probably sell my brother for that ice cream cone. (Sorry, John. In consolation—you’d probably sell me for that ice cream cone, too. Heck—I would sell me for that ice cream cone. But I digress.) I’ve never, and I promise you I never will, see or taste or smell an ice cream cone that delectable, that explosive. And that, as with "Rolling Stone", is their intention. They want you to live by desiring the unattainable. Giving up your brother to attain it (if not your brother, at least your money, your mind, and your life). Selling your soul? Pretty much. That cone is just one footstep in the endless search for the perfect treat to satisfy our over-stimulated food-drive. They make us want it, they make sure what we want is something we will never find, they make sure we spend our lives searching--they make sure we spend our lives consuming.

They want you to worship them as your god. What, after all, does a Creator do? Projects or forms a world on which He can place His creations that they may live and grow, and fulfill His ultimate purpose. And what are these ideas-sellers doing? Exactly that. They are creating and projecting into our minds a world into which they can immerse us, that we may ever strive, and ever search for their truth, and thus fulfill their ultimate purpose. They are making us into hamsters on wheels, and we cannot even see it.

So what effect do "Bon Appetit"’s images of food pornography have on the common man? Personal therapeutic chef Jay Holecek, who utilizes his skill, creativity, and knowledge to address diagnosed digestive disorders, states that hyper-realized images of food “hurt everyone involved” in that the images give the clients a conceptualization of reality which the chefs cannot actualize. Thus the chef is blamed for incompetence, and the consumer unwittingly imbibes and perpetuates the parasitic dream-world of consumer-driven media. These false images ensure that people are “less willing to seek the real-world cures of healthy, whole eating”, as they will constantly be driven to the search for a phantom miracle cure.

Unfortunately for those caught in this cycle, the only true cure for fantasy is reality. So I would humbly request that "Bon Appetit" keeps its indulgent, gratifying, fantastical images to itself that I may stay focused on a real search in a real world, and not be tempted to plunge into an illusive, exploitive, never-ending treasure hunt in a world whose foundations are sand and whose pillars are insubstantial simulacra.

Your humble servant,
Jeanine