It comes from a review of a London eatery by the Guardian’s Jay Rayner:
There are many things I want from a restaurant; love is not one of them. I do not expect restaurants
or their staff to love me, either in that Hallmark greeting-card sense
or that moist adult way. Usually this is fine. I have a number of
defining qualities; lovability has never been close to the top of the
list. When eating in the US, however, nobody seems to notice. There,
almost every chef and waiter will announce that the food being served
has been prepared “with love“.
What? You had congress with my enchiladas? You personally dressed my
cobb salad? Say it ain’t so. It brings to mind the thing the narrator
does to a slab of raw liver, destined for the family’s dinner, in Philip
Roth’s novel, Portnoy’s Complaint. If you’ve read it you know. If you haven’t – oh, just work it out.
I’ve never been told my food is prepared with love.
And I’m sure it is.
What’s wrong with food prepared with love? A lot of regional chefs love the local food and wine and want to share it. NYC restaurants are actually having trouble hiring good chefs, because so many of them are moving to smaller cities and elsewhere where the rent and start up costs are cheaper. Our favorite restaurant is run by a young Swiss couple who fell in love with our local food, wild salmon & halibut, brussels sprouts, cool weather salad greens, kales, chards, local beef and pork and so on. The food wouldn’t be as good if they didn’t care about it. We’re friendly. They don’t have to love us, but their love shows in what they serve.
I agree — I would never have the same opportunity as the writer (he’d like us to know) to talk to a chef, but certainly no waiter has ever told me that my food was prepared with love. Oh, and the writer has exactly one example to back this up.
This to me is the sentence of the day (foodie edition) from his review:
All of it shrieks of freshness and poise, from the banal – a bowl of kalamata olives with their own crunchy pickled cucumber – to the more involved.
Food that shrieks of poise. How … involved.
I don’t want my food to shriek. *covers ears, hides under bed*
A.
I have never had anyone here in NYC say that to me.
rolls eyes. foodies.
I watch Master Chef: Professionals UK on BB America where he’s occasionally one of the judges, and he’s a trip! The English do articulate snark so well.
Jay is a hoot on Master Chef. He also was a judge on the first year of Top Chef Masters but was too tough for the producers’ taste.