After three fun-filled Food Pornologist celebrations this weekend I can assure you that the Brussels sprouts did make me cream my sweat pants and my tummy and fridge are delightfully bursting at the seams. For Marthia. And America.
I figured this would be a perfect time to talk about this series of photographs about refrigerator portraits by Mark Menjivar called You Are What You Eat. I'm really subtle with the segues, huh? Almost as subtle as my lust for Thanksgiving food.
|Community volunteer, completely blind and lives alone|
|Deli attendant, disowned by parents for marrying a black man|
|Retired train conductor, started Meals on Wheels in his community|
|Street advertiser, lives on $432 monthly fixed income|
WHAT IS IN THE BLACK BAG? How can this person afford to eat at all?
|College student, drummer for death metal band|
|Midwife/middle school science teacher, 1st week after deciding to eat all local produce|
So naturally I decided to participate so everyone can judge me by the contents of my fridge.
|Designer/blogger, Believes glitter holds magical powers|
I took this picture three months ago but didn't post it because #1 - it feels really really personal sharing the contents of your fridge. Easy to extrapolate someone's life based on their Dr. Thunder habit, but harder to share your food decisions with the world. #2 - Although I'm fascinated by the larger themes by the photographs and being a voyeur is always super fun, does anyone really give a shit about what I have in my fridge?
So it lingered in my drafts folder like that about that peach I forgot about in the back of the fridge.
I decided it was time to share after my blog daddy Paul Anater of Kitchen and Residential Design sent me a link to a blogger who styles - yes STYLES - her fridge.
She suggests placing a small vase of flowers in the fridge, keeping leftovers in French canning jars and tying up cheese and meats in parchment paper and string to make a prettier fridge.
I eyerolled so hard my eyes literally popped out of my head and rolled across the floor and it sounds like Charlemagne is nibbling on them but I can't really tell because I HAVE NO EYES.
I applaud her attention to detail about things I could give a shit about but damn, y'all. Is no place safe from the precious fingers of design bloggers? If looking at cold flowers every time you open the fridge to grab a beer makes your heart soar with delight then happily I support your compulsion and future appearance on Strange Addiction.
But in a culture where every one is Photoshopped and every thing is styled like Marthia, gawddess of hearth and French canning jars, is knocking on your door, can't I have one area where it's okay to be apathetic about pretty? Possibly even *gasp* ugly?
I'm not really waffling on this issue - it's a rhetorical question. I'm completely apathetic and ugly about many areas of my life including but not limited to the state of my fridge, my sock drawer, my pedicure in winter and my entire guest room.
Call me a judgmental asshole because I have no problem making negative assumptions about the
sanity motivations of someone who wants to style their produce but pretend I don't make negative assumptions about the type of person who leaves pots of food uncovered in a fridge like in the photos above. That is so gross to me. Maybe they're grossed out by the current state of my toenail cuticles so I guess we're even.
But I would happily be friends with someone who enjoys Dr. Thunder but if I saw they had gift-wrapped their raw chicken I might have to reevaluate our friendship.
By reevaluate I mean get the hell out of their house as fast as I can.
But I'd totally steal some fancy butter as I self-righteously run away.
You can judge me for that too.