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You Aren't What You Eat: Fed Up with Gastroculture
We have become obsessed by food: where it comes from, where to buy it, how to cook it and—most absurdly of all—how to eat it. Our televisions and newspapers are filled with celebrity chefs, latter-day priests whose authority and ambition range from the small scale (what we should have for supper) to large-scale public schemes designed to improve our communal eating habits. When did the basic human imperative to feed ourselves mutate into such a multitude of anxieties about provenance, ethics, health, lifestyle and class status? And since when did the likes of Jamie Oliver and Nigella Lawson gain the power to transform our kitchens and dining tables into places where we expect to be spiritually sustained? In this subtle and erudite polemic, Steven Poole argues that we're trying to fill more than just our bellies when we pick up our knives and forks, and that we might be a lot happier if we realised that sometimes we should throw away the colour supplements and open a tin of beans.
- GenresNonfictionFoodCooking
209 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2012
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190 people want to read
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September 30, 2018
You Aren’t what you eat is all about debunking food myths and gastro cults. Along the way the author, Steven Poole visits some of the more insane claims made by diet moguls, pokes erudite fun at the many celebrity chefs and pretentious ‘reality food shows’ and points out some of the flaws inherent in dining on aerosols and gels. To me, this book is ultimately about examining the ways in which western society currently relates to food and eating, some of those ways being really very strange indeed.
The early chapters trace the evolution of the current language of food including the oh so chic word “foodie” (Poole proposes “foodist” as an alternative). We then get deft introductions to consumerism, the history and the fashions of food and eating. I found the section dealing with fad diets and naturopathic claims as to what food can do for all that ails you especially interesting because, as a scientist who knows a moderate amount about food I have been horrified over the years at some of the claims made by people about diet. My tactic has been to close my ears to insanities such as the ‘blood type diet’. Steven Poole’s tactic however is to get together a nice amount of information on the topic and make fun of the gurus while elegantly debunking some of the stupidities.
I grew up in a family that loved food; my mother thought nothing of designing and cooking a four course meal for a family birthday party, I was dining in restaurants before I learned to speak and dinner time discussions involved eager dissection of the flavours that one experienced while eating. So I love the fact that food is a universal interest, different international restaurants are everywhere and the growing availability of unusual ingredients available at the most basic convenience stores. What I have not loved so much is the gradual feeling I have got over the years that the actual flavour and quality of food and the enjoyment of it does not seem to be the main interest for a lot of people. I have occasionally been bewildered by people who consider themselves ‘foodies’ are constantly in search of the new hottest restaurant, are willing to pay high prices for food and yet cannot seem to differentiate the flavour of well cooked food from food that is very average indeed. This book actually explains the phenomena of the ‘foodie’ who does not really get the food they are eating.
The chapters cover different themes and I will mention one; in chapter nine ‘back to nature’ the book looks at the organic movements, their pro’s and con’s and how realistic some of the sustainability premises of these movements are. While I don’t actually agree with everything that Poole has to say about the organic and related trends, I don’t have to and disagreeing with the views does not in fact lessen the worth of the critical element because it is well written. That is actually the overall feeling of the book; well written, well researched (with an excellent bibliography and notes section), and well presented. I certainly learned a lot from it about the more expensive and less sensible food trends.
Criticisms (and I can always find something to criticise); The Author has a journalistic background and this comes through really strongly in the writing style with its short sentences, punchy conclusions and attention getting tactics. This is really not a negative as such because it suits the style of the book but the writing style is so flamboyant that it sometimes overcomes the subject.
Language; I adore the English language it’s idiosyncrasies and general weirdness’s, clearly Poole does also and he seems to have reserved all the words that never get used and given them their moment in the sun. Or maybe he goggled for unusual words? In any case, in the prologue I came across no less than four words that I had never encountered before and I don’t think that has happened to me since I was about twelve. However to quote Douglas Adams and the Hitchhikers Guide; “After a while the style settles down a little...” and after that it is all plain sailing.
In accordance with the terms and conditions, I am obliged to say that this book was a Goodreads giveaway. In actual fact it is the first give-away from Goodreads that I have read and I could not imagine a better start; I finished this book fast with a sense of regret that it was over so soon. I see the Author has other books published – must look into those.
The early chapters trace the evolution of the current language of food including the oh so chic word “foodie” (Poole proposes “foodist” as an alternative). We then get deft introductions to consumerism, the history and the fashions of food and eating. I found the section dealing with fad diets and naturopathic claims as to what food can do for all that ails you especially interesting because, as a scientist who knows a moderate amount about food I have been horrified over the years at some of the claims made by people about diet. My tactic has been to close my ears to insanities such as the ‘blood type diet’. Steven Poole’s tactic however is to get together a nice amount of information on the topic and make fun of the gurus while elegantly debunking some of the stupidities.
I grew up in a family that loved food; my mother thought nothing of designing and cooking a four course meal for a family birthday party, I was dining in restaurants before I learned to speak and dinner time discussions involved eager dissection of the flavours that one experienced while eating. So I love the fact that food is a universal interest, different international restaurants are everywhere and the growing availability of unusual ingredients available at the most basic convenience stores. What I have not loved so much is the gradual feeling I have got over the years that the actual flavour and quality of food and the enjoyment of it does not seem to be the main interest for a lot of people. I have occasionally been bewildered by people who consider themselves ‘foodies’ are constantly in search of the new hottest restaurant, are willing to pay high prices for food and yet cannot seem to differentiate the flavour of well cooked food from food that is very average indeed. This book actually explains the phenomena of the ‘foodie’ who does not really get the food they are eating.
The chapters cover different themes and I will mention one; in chapter nine ‘back to nature’ the book looks at the organic movements, their pro’s and con’s and how realistic some of the sustainability premises of these movements are. While I don’t actually agree with everything that Poole has to say about the organic and related trends, I don’t have to and disagreeing with the views does not in fact lessen the worth of the critical element because it is well written. That is actually the overall feeling of the book; well written, well researched (with an excellent bibliography and notes section), and well presented. I certainly learned a lot from it about the more expensive and less sensible food trends.
Criticisms (and I can always find something to criticise); The Author has a journalistic background and this comes through really strongly in the writing style with its short sentences, punchy conclusions and attention getting tactics. This is really not a negative as such because it suits the style of the book but the writing style is so flamboyant that it sometimes overcomes the subject.
Language; I adore the English language it’s idiosyncrasies and general weirdness’s, clearly Poole does also and he seems to have reserved all the words that never get used and given them their moment in the sun. Or maybe he goggled for unusual words? In any case, in the prologue I came across no less than four words that I had never encountered before and I don’t think that has happened to me since I was about twelve. However to quote Douglas Adams and the Hitchhikers Guide; “After a while the style settles down a little...” and after that it is all plain sailing.
In accordance with the terms and conditions, I am obliged to say that this book was a Goodreads giveaway. In actual fact it is the first give-away from Goodreads that I have read and I could not imagine a better start; I finished this book fast with a sense of regret that it was over so soon. I see the Author has other books published – must look into those.
October 24, 2012
I’ve been a fan of Steven Poole for a while, having read and enjoyed his previous books (‘Trigger Happy’ on video games, ‘Unspeak’ on political language) and followed his columns in the Guardian and Edge magazine, so I was reasonably sure I’d enjoy this. And enjoy it I did. Poole’s writing generally combines a waggish sense of humour with serious philosophical intent, and like ‘Unspeak‘ this book is mostly given over to calling out bullshit as he sees it. It seems like it’s not enough for the bullshit to be untrue; for a subject to catch the author’s attention, it must also have an aspect which is dangerously misleading (hence his recent essay on popular neuroscience literature).
In this case, the chief target of the book is ‘foodism’, which the author defines as: ‘not itself an eating disorder but a disorder of culture’, with the foodist being an individual who ‘operates under the prejudices of a governing ideology, viewing the whole world through the grease-smeared lenses of a militant eater’. It’s not simply about eating nice food: a foodist will define themselves and others by what they eat to the extent that food becomes ‘not only spiritual nourishment but art, sex, ecology, history, fashion and ethics. It even becomes, in the mind of its more addled fanatics, a universal language.’ Poole rejects utterly the idea that you can ‘communicate’ through cookery, ‘just as you cannot communicate bodily nourishment through writing’.
While there is an aspect of moral condemnation here (as though foodism were a kind of degeneracy) it’s also an extremely funny book, and part of the pleasure in reading it is watching the author eloquently skewer even the most self-evidently ridiculous of targets. We all know that Gillian McKeith has an obsession with poo, that Elizabeth Gilbert writes like a maniac, and that Ferran Adrià and Heston Blumenthal produce some fairly odd things; but refreshingly, Poole has little patience for the high-concept approach to food. I particularly enjoyed his wry dismissal of something called the ‘Childhood menu’ at Chicago restaurant Next, which as the title suggests is intended to evoke a kind of reverie of youth:
‘The ‘concept’ is authoritarian: you *shall* have childhood memories while eating this stuff. It is perhaps worthwhile to note that Marcel Proust’s madeleine did not inspire in him a yielding to insipid retro-infantilism but drove him to spend years concentrating ferociously in a cork-lined room in order to compose an enormous novel. Next’s Childhood menu would surely be the ideal gastronomic overture for the wealthy businessman who plans to go back to his hotel with an ‘escort’ and dress up in a nappy.’
There’s plenty more where this came from (I highlighted over 30 passages in my kindle edition alone) but I'm sure you get the idea. Waggish, he is.
Ultimately, the book is somewhat limited in scope. Certainly the author knows how we ought not to think about food, but by the end I was left unsure as to what a correct approach might look like. Where should we limit our experience of it, and at what point precisely does one become a foodist? There’s no thesis as such, no revelations proffered; food is nice, says the book, but perhaps we ought not to treat it like an ‘ersatz spiritualism’. A food is a food is a food.
The approach is diagnostic rather than prescriptive, which is perfectly fine as long as you don’t expect to be told how to live in the last few pages. Not such a bad thing, perhaps, but it might be nice to see the author turn his hand to writing about something he really enjoys for his next book.
In this case, the chief target of the book is ‘foodism’, which the author defines as: ‘not itself an eating disorder but a disorder of culture’, with the foodist being an individual who ‘operates under the prejudices of a governing ideology, viewing the whole world through the grease-smeared lenses of a militant eater’. It’s not simply about eating nice food: a foodist will define themselves and others by what they eat to the extent that food becomes ‘not only spiritual nourishment but art, sex, ecology, history, fashion and ethics. It even becomes, in the mind of its more addled fanatics, a universal language.’ Poole rejects utterly the idea that you can ‘communicate’ through cookery, ‘just as you cannot communicate bodily nourishment through writing’.
While there is an aspect of moral condemnation here (as though foodism were a kind of degeneracy) it’s also an extremely funny book, and part of the pleasure in reading it is watching the author eloquently skewer even the most self-evidently ridiculous of targets. We all know that Gillian McKeith has an obsession with poo, that Elizabeth Gilbert writes like a maniac, and that Ferran Adrià and Heston Blumenthal produce some fairly odd things; but refreshingly, Poole has little patience for the high-concept approach to food. I particularly enjoyed his wry dismissal of something called the ‘Childhood menu’ at Chicago restaurant Next, which as the title suggests is intended to evoke a kind of reverie of youth:
‘The ‘concept’ is authoritarian: you *shall* have childhood memories while eating this stuff. It is perhaps worthwhile to note that Marcel Proust’s madeleine did not inspire in him a yielding to insipid retro-infantilism but drove him to spend years concentrating ferociously in a cork-lined room in order to compose an enormous novel. Next’s Childhood menu would surely be the ideal gastronomic overture for the wealthy businessman who plans to go back to his hotel with an ‘escort’ and dress up in a nappy.’
There’s plenty more where this came from (I highlighted over 30 passages in my kindle edition alone) but I'm sure you get the idea. Waggish, he is.
Ultimately, the book is somewhat limited in scope. Certainly the author knows how we ought not to think about food, but by the end I was left unsure as to what a correct approach might look like. Where should we limit our experience of it, and at what point precisely does one become a foodist? There’s no thesis as such, no revelations proffered; food is nice, says the book, but perhaps we ought not to treat it like an ‘ersatz spiritualism’. A food is a food is a food.
The approach is diagnostic rather than prescriptive, which is perfectly fine as long as you don’t expect to be told how to live in the last few pages. Not such a bad thing, perhaps, but it might be nice to see the author turn his hand to writing about something he really enjoys for his next book.
March 16, 2013
This was the best book I read in 2012. I have an embarrassing intellectual crush on Steven Poole now and really have to try hard not to be that cringey fangirl who tweets at him all the time. Basically, for a long time I've lacked the vocabulary to explain my distaste for the depravity of food culture. Poole is like my Betty Friedan; this book is like my Gastronomic Mystique.
I really enjoyed the relaxed erudition of the book and its absurdist humour. Poole wears his scholarship lightly, and provides persuasive, polemical arguments about why food isn't medicine, it isn't religion, it isn't art, it isn't love, it isn't communication, and it doesn't deserve the reified place in our culture that it currently occupies.
I really enjoyed the relaxed erudition of the book and its absurdist humour. Poole wears his scholarship lightly, and provides persuasive, polemical arguments about why food isn't medicine, it isn't religion, it isn't art, it isn't love, it isn't communication, and it doesn't deserve the reified place in our culture that it currently occupies.
December 30, 2018
3 Stars = I liked the book. I'm glad I read it.
October 21, 2012
Written in lovely and precise prose, with its point at the "book shaped products" that dominates the non-fiction lists, it's a must read for anyone who've once tasted pretentioness from a dinner plate.
October 21, 2018
I saw this on TV not too long ago. Chef Gordon Ramsay (".. famous for being shouty and saying f**k a lot") is cooking while the contestants in some Cooking Competition show, ooh and aah in awe. And what masterpiece was Ramsay cooking that brought the audience to such moaning admiration? Scrambled eggs! Are we, as a culture, getting too obsessed with food? Chefs are treated like rock-stars, the shop around the corner offers "artisanal" paan and prime-time TV is full of reality TV cooking shows. The foodie disease is everywhere.
Stephen Poole's 'You aren't what you eat' calls bullshit on the pretentiousness in foodie ("foodist") culture. In 14 deliciously bitchy chapters, Poole takes on different aspects of Gastroculture.
Pretentious menus, food writing, the naivete of the organic and eating local (locavore) movements, reality TV shows, Food writing and the slow food movement - nothing is spared.
He quotes from an extensive list of sources including gems like this voice-over from Masterchef. "This is fine dining now, so Steve must remove the outer skin from each individual pea." The book is funny and very well-written. Unfortunately , it was written pre-Instagram and a lot people can't imagine what they would do with their food if Instagram were not there. Read this book, then go have a meal at a fancy restaurant - you will probably laugh when you read the menu. Highly recommended!
Stephen Poole's 'You aren't what you eat' calls bullshit on the pretentiousness in foodie ("foodist") culture. In 14 deliciously bitchy chapters, Poole takes on different aspects of Gastroculture.
Pretentious menus, food writing, the naivete of the organic and eating local (locavore) movements, reality TV shows, Food writing and the slow food movement - nothing is spared.
He quotes from an extensive list of sources including gems like this voice-over from Masterchef. "This is fine dining now, so Steve must remove the outer skin from each individual pea." The book is funny and very well-written. Unfortunately , it was written pre-Instagram and a lot people can't imagine what they would do with their food if Instagram were not there. Read this book, then go have a meal at a fancy restaurant - you will probably laugh when you read the menu. Highly recommended!
May 3, 2013
I just reviewed this wonderful short book for the TLS. When my editor proposed the title — book review ideas come from the publication, not from the writer — I hadn't yet heard of Steven Poole. I wish I had. "You Aren't What You Eat" is a funny, funny, witty and well-educated rant against "foodism," the term that Steven Poole uses for the current oversaturated interest in food and drink. His take is wide-ranging and omnivorous: he drops names like Barthes, Baudrillard and Debord from French critical theory, as well as quotes from "OK Computer" and references to other pop culture.
For me, the book was laugh-out-loud funny, from the author's crazy turns of phrase ("ventripotent blowout of heroically extended gastrimargy") to the takedowns of people like Jamie Oliver, Nigella Lawson and my old pal Anthony Bourdain. (Bourdain, low-bullshit guy that he is, half gets a pass. The others... not so much.)
If you're just getting into food writing, this might not be where you should start. But if you're up to date on food culture, or even just fed up with it, you'll probably love "You Aren't What You Eat." I certainly did.
For me, the book was laugh-out-loud funny, from the author's crazy turns of phrase ("ventripotent blowout of heroically extended gastrimargy") to the takedowns of people like Jamie Oliver, Nigella Lawson and my old pal Anthony Bourdain. (Bourdain, low-bullshit guy that he is, half gets a pass. The others... not so much.)
If you're just getting into food writing, this might not be where you should start. But if you're up to date on food culture, or even just fed up with it, you'll probably love "You Aren't What You Eat." I certainly did.
December 29, 2014
Huh. Turns out a book-length rant (even a short book), isn't terribly fun or interesting to read. I so wanted to love this, and expected to, as I am exasperated by all the foodie bs out there. Food is not medicine and there is no perfect diet that will guarantee a life of health. Evolution doesn't work that way. Good enough is truly good enough. Food fetishization is annoying as people will proudly tell you how great kale chips or bacon doughnuts are (I'm always amused at how kale and bacon are revered, for almost opposite reasons). Facebook is littered with pictures of food. And I love food and I enjoy cooking! I just don't want to talk endlessly about it, or worse, hear other people talk endlessly about it.
There's my rant, and it didn't take me 150 pages to do it. But I suppose I won't make any money, either. Alas.
There's my rant, and it didn't take me 150 pages to do it. But I suppose I won't make any money, either. Alas.
March 4, 2016
The first chapter cheerfully debunking nutritionists and food allergists and others giving misinformed advice about what we should eat was good fun. I enjoyed the sneering tone. This was followed by an entire chapter dissecting, and mocking, the items in a restaurant menu. One by one. It was tedious. And beyond that I grew tired of the smarmy tone. I would probably have enjoyed this at the length of a magazine article, but for a book, its content is too thin and its tone too thick.
March 29, 2016
I was really looking forward to this book, but I felt let down. Most of this book involves Poole ranting about a culture he clearly does not like and, furthermore does not understand. The book is well researched in terms of facts, and the later chapters were quite insightful in an informative sense, but I really felt the Poole failed to give insight into the humanity and the meaning of gastroculture.
January 1, 2026
Well-researched and frequently funny, but often also pedantically negative about just about anything connected to food.
April 30, 2019
It's so delightful to read a lively, well-researched treatise on the subject of food and cooking, that quotes everyone from Bourdain to Žižek and Adorno.
September 13, 2018
Interesting, informative, entertaining and made me laugh out loud.
November 16, 2016
I was really impressed by Poole's Unspeak, a lucid exploration of the verbal cloak-and-daggery of politicians and other "influence-makers". Likewise, I always read his Guardian columns with interest: Poole can cut through the bullshit of media hype like very few others, and that is exactly what we need right now. He therefore seemed perfect to burst the bubble that is "foodie" culture.
But alas, it turned out he wasn't, not quite. This is more of a diatribe than a lucid analysis. Instead of trying to get to the roots of this surging gastronomic interest, he just searches out its freakiest excesses and inveighs against them not unlike a Dawkins let loose on a pack of God-fearing sheep. It all seems a bit... easy, cheap. Poole's annoyances run so deep that on multiple occasions he has to reassure the reader that he does actually like to eat, that he is not against eating in itself. Well, no shit; he wouldn't be here to tell the tale if he was "against eating".
Somewhere at the beginning of the book Poole reiterates the oft-heard claim that food is the new religion, an unlikely placeholder for the God-shaped voids in our lives. This book would have been the perfect place to actually test that claim, and to dig for the roots of this whole thing. But it steers around this, and consistently goes for the low-hanging fruit.
If anything, Poole proves that a writer should stick to what he is good at. The best parts of this book are, after all, his dissections of the language employed by chefs and foodies (or "foodists", as Poole keeps insisting) alike. Particularly notable is the euphemistic tone used in hushed tones around dead animals, who remain both demandful ("the pig wants more cooking") and chilled out ("the bacon is reclining on a bed of spinach") after their slaughter. I guess a whole book of this would have been too much, but it is certainly where the author's strengths are, and in a strange way does more to burst the culture's bubble than his more head-on attacks elsewhere.
But alas, it turned out he wasn't, not quite. This is more of a diatribe than a lucid analysis. Instead of trying to get to the roots of this surging gastronomic interest, he just searches out its freakiest excesses and inveighs against them not unlike a Dawkins let loose on a pack of God-fearing sheep. It all seems a bit... easy, cheap. Poole's annoyances run so deep that on multiple occasions he has to reassure the reader that he does actually like to eat, that he is not against eating in itself. Well, no shit; he wouldn't be here to tell the tale if he was "against eating".
Somewhere at the beginning of the book Poole reiterates the oft-heard claim that food is the new religion, an unlikely placeholder for the God-shaped voids in our lives. This book would have been the perfect place to actually test that claim, and to dig for the roots of this whole thing. But it steers around this, and consistently goes for the low-hanging fruit.
If anything, Poole proves that a writer should stick to what he is good at. The best parts of this book are, after all, his dissections of the language employed by chefs and foodies (or "foodists", as Poole keeps insisting) alike. Particularly notable is the euphemistic tone used in hushed tones around dead animals, who remain both demandful ("the pig wants more cooking") and chilled out ("the bacon is reclining on a bed of spinach") after their slaughter. I guess a whole book of this would have been too much, but it is certainly where the author's strengths are, and in a strange way does more to burst the culture's bubble than his more head-on attacks elsewhere.
April 14, 2018
It was erudite all right - I had to look loads of things up, but I suppose that's good for me.
An excellent book. I enjoyed it. The only point I don't agree on is that he thinks individual action is a waste of time, and I do not.
I also wish he wasn't quite so bitter, but it was a great read.
An excellent book. I enjoyed it. The only point I don't agree on is that he thinks individual action is a waste of time, and I do not.
I also wish he wasn't quite so bitter, but it was a great read.
December 3, 2016
A crude and well-documented book about foodism --and an exquisite example of sarcasm.
January 7, 2021
“At the end of the day, it’s just food, isn’t it? Just food.”
~ Marco Pierre White
This book is the perfect antidote to a world of Masterchef, well meaning group think on food systems and wanky winemakers dinner conversations.* Food (or lack there of) touches everyone but we don’t need to hold the same reverence for it - we are not what we eat, as Steven Poole argues.
This book is the most entertaining when Poole is lambasting celebrity chefs and the cult of foodism, although one can’t help but wonder if the choice of subject was also an excuse to visit some of the venues and events he was discussing (rather like the wave of gastrotourism stimulated by the Trip which is also discussed here).
He also got bonus points from me for naming my favourite writer on food ethics (there’s nothing like someone agreeing with you to make you think them incredibly clever). Forget Michael Pollen & Jonathan Safron Foer, Peter Singer should be your go-to food ethicist.
My take homes are:
- we need to remember the role that class plays in food, especially when discussing what poorer people eat.
- there is no such thing as bad food, just diets with the wrong nutrition so stop judging individual choices.
- a mostly vegetarian diet probably is better for the planet (but read Singer directly for this)
- local food is not always the best answer and it doesn’t scale (also read Singer).
- be serious about food but honest and fun (think the best writing of Anthony Bourdain).
This is the first book I found an old plane ticket in. So I can say that I enjoyed this book even more than I did on the LST-MLB-ADL flight on November 21, 2012.
* Actually, I quite like all of these things and do them regularly, but I will think more critically about my ideas because of this book.
~ Marco Pierre White
This book is the perfect antidote to a world of Masterchef, well meaning group think on food systems and wanky winemakers dinner conversations.* Food (or lack there of) touches everyone but we don’t need to hold the same reverence for it - we are not what we eat, as Steven Poole argues.
This book is the most entertaining when Poole is lambasting celebrity chefs and the cult of foodism, although one can’t help but wonder if the choice of subject was also an excuse to visit some of the venues and events he was discussing (rather like the wave of gastrotourism stimulated by the Trip which is also discussed here).
He also got bonus points from me for naming my favourite writer on food ethics (there’s nothing like someone agreeing with you to make you think them incredibly clever). Forget Michael Pollen & Jonathan Safron Foer, Peter Singer should be your go-to food ethicist.
My take homes are:
- we need to remember the role that class plays in food, especially when discussing what poorer people eat.
- there is no such thing as bad food, just diets with the wrong nutrition so stop judging individual choices.
- a mostly vegetarian diet probably is better for the planet (but read Singer directly for this)
- local food is not always the best answer and it doesn’t scale (also read Singer).
- be serious about food but honest and fun (think the best writing of Anthony Bourdain).
This is the first book I found an old plane ticket in. So I can say that I enjoyed this book even more than I did on the LST-MLB-ADL flight on November 21, 2012.
* Actually, I quite like all of these things and do them regularly, but I will think more critically about my ideas because of this book.
May 9, 2025
Books offer a window into contradictory opinions, letting you explore diverse perspectives side by side. I recently came across Steven Poole’s “You Aren’t What You Eat”, and I loved how it challenges popular food norms and busts so many modern dietary myths.
In a time when everyone’s chasing the “healthiest” diet, it's easy to get overwhelmed—should we eat curd or avoid it? What about the never-ending debate between vegetarianism, non-vegetarianism, and now, veganism?
While Poole questions the moralization of food, other authors dive deep into what to eat, why, and how it affects us. And that’s the beauty of it—you get to read, reflect, and then make up your own mind, ideally understanding the science behind it all.
In a time when everyone’s chasing the “healthiest” diet, it's easy to get overwhelmed—should we eat curd or avoid it? What about the never-ending debate between vegetarianism, non-vegetarianism, and now, veganism?
While Poole questions the moralization of food, other authors dive deep into what to eat, why, and how it affects us. And that’s the beauty of it—you get to read, reflect, and then make up your own mind, ideally understanding the science behind it all.
February 3, 2019
Funny food observations.
January 29, 2022
Another great book, that gently pokes fun at foodies and gastrocultre in general. Celebrated the end of reading this book by eating a bag of chicken Twisties!
October 27, 2013
The main problem with this book is that the crimes it spends a lot of its time tackling are either pretty minor or else self-evidently absurd to anyone with more than a teaspoon of common sense, and so not really deserving of all the attention. So, it does feel a bit long at times.
However, it's generally entertaining, quite often very funny, and sometimes does make rather a profound point (usually in a funny way).
Take for example the following, about the traditionalist organic movement, which would require a return to labour-intesive farming on an enormous scale:
'It's a strange set of ethical priorities, at least, that values an unrequitable 'friendship' with a massive hunk of rock floating in space over solidarity with one's fellow human beings.'
Or the following, on overprioritising eating:
'One wonders in passing if a dedicated foodists' other senses are somehow attenuated by the monstrous growth of the gustatory organ: whereas most of us are lucky enough also to experience the world through vision, hearing, and touch, a foodist can experience the world only by putting it in his mouth, like a giant baby.'
When he's not being hilariously cutting, Poole is at his best when he's dismantling worthy opponents, such as in informing his readers that organic celery contains more toxins than inorganic, or that eating lamb imported from New Zealand is four times more carbon-friendly than eating grain-fed local lamb from England.
To return briefly to the shortcomings, I wasn't convinced by Poole's dismissal of 'conscientious consumerism' (buying the less damaging product) as an insufficiently effective response to harmful practices. He advocates setting up or supporting NGOs, but we can't all do the former, and there's only so much we can do of the latter.
I also enjoyed one point that was somewhat contrary to the anti-foodist argument within which it was made - that food preperation has been fetishised:
'As Max Horkheimer put it in conversation with Theodore Adorno half a century ago: "In actual fact [people's] free time does them no good because the way they have to work does not involve engaging with objects. This means that they are not enriched by their encounter with objects."'
Finally, although the conclusion of Poole's argument, that we have overegged the food pudding and should devote more attention to other things, is refreshing, the world doesn't exactly fall over itself to reward or provide scope for more serious, deserving, or edifying pursuits. What am I going to do instead of stuff my face, run for Mayor of London?
But I don't fully subscribe to the suggestion that something must replace what it tears down in order not to be negative, and it would be preposterous to criticise Poole for how difficult it is to instil one's life with meaning.
I overuse certain words in my reviews, and this book provides opportunity to do so again: it's entertaining, informative, and witty - and best of all, it's right.
However, it's generally entertaining, quite often very funny, and sometimes does make rather a profound point (usually in a funny way).
Take for example the following, about the traditionalist organic movement, which would require a return to labour-intesive farming on an enormous scale:
'It's a strange set of ethical priorities, at least, that values an unrequitable 'friendship' with a massive hunk of rock floating in space over solidarity with one's fellow human beings.'
Or the following, on overprioritising eating:
'One wonders in passing if a dedicated foodists' other senses are somehow attenuated by the monstrous growth of the gustatory organ: whereas most of us are lucky enough also to experience the world through vision, hearing, and touch, a foodist can experience the world only by putting it in his mouth, like a giant baby.'
When he's not being hilariously cutting, Poole is at his best when he's dismantling worthy opponents, such as in informing his readers that organic celery contains more toxins than inorganic, or that eating lamb imported from New Zealand is four times more carbon-friendly than eating grain-fed local lamb from England.
To return briefly to the shortcomings, I wasn't convinced by Poole's dismissal of 'conscientious consumerism' (buying the less damaging product) as an insufficiently effective response to harmful practices. He advocates setting up or supporting NGOs, but we can't all do the former, and there's only so much we can do of the latter.
I also enjoyed one point that was somewhat contrary to the anti-foodist argument within which it was made - that food preperation has been fetishised:
'As Max Horkheimer put it in conversation with Theodore Adorno half a century ago: "In actual fact [people's] free time does them no good because the way they have to work does not involve engaging with objects. This means that they are not enriched by their encounter with objects."'
Finally, although the conclusion of Poole's argument, that we have overegged the food pudding and should devote more attention to other things, is refreshing, the world doesn't exactly fall over itself to reward or provide scope for more serious, deserving, or edifying pursuits. What am I going to do instead of stuff my face, run for Mayor of London?
But I don't fully subscribe to the suggestion that something must replace what it tears down in order not to be negative, and it would be preposterous to criticise Poole for how difficult it is to instil one's life with meaning.
I overuse certain words in my reviews, and this book provides opportunity to do so again: it's entertaining, informative, and witty - and best of all, it's right.
June 15, 2013
This is a wonderful little book - while I can see people might not agree with a lot of Poole's concepts, it certainly was (oh no) "food for thought."
I found this quite intelligent and Poole incorporated ideas such as Rousseau in attempting to explain the cultural obsession with certain types of food - so while this is a fascinating polemic on food culture, this is also a good entry into some social and cultural theory.
I love books that poke a bit of fun at current cultural trends - and the foodie movement really has begun to grind my gears lately. I'm not sure how this book might fare after a few more years when the next latest and greatest trends come and go, however this is still a real gem of a book.
I found this quite intelligent and Poole incorporated ideas such as Rousseau in attempting to explain the cultural obsession with certain types of food - so while this is a fascinating polemic on food culture, this is also a good entry into some social and cultural theory.
I love books that poke a bit of fun at current cultural trends - and the foodie movement really has begun to grind my gears lately. I'm not sure how this book might fare after a few more years when the next latest and greatest trends come and go, however this is still a real gem of a book.
July 9, 2013
This book is hilarious. I first heard of the book and author at the Perth Writer's Festival, and I immediately loved his sense of humor. His assessment of foodies (or his preferred term, foodists) is spot on. The book is short and a quick read but covers a broad range of topics, from the misplaced obsession with food over the company you eat it with to the naturalistic fallacy that dominates the foodie philosophy. His criticisms are witty and pointed. Though sometimes petty, they are almost always amusing, and generally quite smart. I particularly enjoyed his point about gastroculture's 'solutions' to the environmental impacts of what we eat, which take a very individualistic (and thus ineffective) approach to the very real problems of modern day decadence.
June 22, 2014
Manifest tegen de hedendaagse obsessie met voedsel en de hele 'high-food' cultuur. Kookprogramma's, diëetboeken, gastronomiebeurzen,... als 'gastroporn'. 'After all it's JUST FOOD, isn't it?' als algemene gedachte.
Ongelofelijk cynisch geschreven, soms gewoon té zeer om te kunnen blijven lezen. Desalniettemin een leuk boekje met filosofisch getinte overpeinzingen rond de vaak absurde wereld gecreëerd rondom the High Art (of cooking).
Ongelofelijk cynisch geschreven, soms gewoon té zeer om te kunnen blijven lezen. Desalniettemin een leuk boekje met filosofisch getinte overpeinzingen rond de vaak absurde wereld gecreëerd rondom the High Art (of cooking).
November 13, 2012
Hilarious and very perceptive. Picks apart the pretensions and false consciousness of our "foodist" culture. What's not to like about such a swift, witty dissection that also manages to reference Adorno, Radiohead, Zizek, CS Lewis (!), and Proust (along with many, many celebrity chef and food writers).
April 2, 2013
A valiant attempt to show that foodism is basically just like any other kind of snobbery. It's readable and broadly convincing. However, Poole does labour some points - especially the absurdity of gastro vocabulary - and it does quite often fall down on the wrong side of the line between polemic and diatribe.
April 26, 2013
I'm not sure that the food-obsessives described in Poole's polemic actually exist, at least outside of the weird and wonderful world of the broadsheet weekend supplements. But on the other hand, its an entertaining little rant (though its only 168 well-spaced pages long, if I had paid money for it I might feel short-changed).
February 10, 2014
Short review = overall, a good ranty-read. Windy and detailed, in places...
The good: I enjoyed reading this Book. Educational, funny and lengthy. Some quotes-of-gold within.
The bad: Repetitive, in places. I also got tired of reading Anthony Bourdain quotes.
The ugly: Over-reliance on quotes, rhetorical comments and technical comparisons. Almost academic.
The good: I enjoyed reading this Book. Educational, funny and lengthy. Some quotes-of-gold within.
The bad: Repetitive, in places. I also got tired of reading Anthony Bourdain quotes.
The ugly: Over-reliance on quotes, rhetorical comments and technical comparisons. Almost academic.
February 6, 2013
- very well read author
- interesting division of chapters that make sense but the overall argument isn't as coherent as it could have been
- worthwhile to read as an alternative take on food
- lacking something though... possibly not as engaging due to writing style/ tone?
- interesting division of chapters that make sense but the overall argument isn't as coherent as it could have been
- worthwhile to read as an alternative take on food
- lacking something though... possibly not as engaging due to writing style/ tone?
November 29, 2013
If I could give this 3.5 stars I would. An interesting book analysing the world's obsession with food culture. Has some interesting insights, but as someone who doesn't read much non-fiction, I found it a little dry.
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