You’re looking at a billboard erected on a Michigan roadside. McDonald’s has launched a campaign for its new Bacon Clubhouse sandwich with the tagline foodies welcome.
That’s right, foodies, come on in to Mickey D’s.
The poster child for the salt, fat, and high-fructose corn syrup of factory farmed, heavily processed foods now speaks your language with its artisan-bunned thick-cut applewood smoked bacon burger.
Foodie was once the juvenile but still proud name for a gustatory explorer, someone with genuine passion and even a hint of a rebellious spirit.
The early foodies broke with the old-guard; they separated fine food and wine from its context of formality and its singular attachment to French cuisine. A Chinatown noodle joint could achieve the same stature as haute cuisine on the Upper East Side. A single peach could be as sublimely pleasurable as a Grand Marnier soufflé. The true foodie could properly enjoy both.
Today’s foodie is a different breed.
Years of over-hyped foodism took care of that, treating food as an emblem of status and lifestyle and turning the food-loving foodies into conspicuous consumers of consumption. The McDonald’s promotion can’t be blamed for tarnishing the image of foodies. That damage was already done. The foodie moniker, for a while now, has stood for nothing more than an overweening interest in food accompanied by self-involved, romanticized pretentions. By co-opting the name, the fast food giant is just helping it along to its deservedly early grave.