Foodie Culture Leaves a Bad Taste on Baltimore Palates

Brace yourselves Baltimore, for the Chop is about to take another potentially unpopular position. Today we’re coming out against food.

Did you know that your own humble Chop has been a vegetarian lo these 15 years? Of course you didn’t. We never mentioned it because we’re acutely aware that no one cares what we’re eating. And by that same token, the Chop doesn’t care what anyone else is eating, which leads to much eye-rolling because in 2010 everyone is anxious to tell you exactly what they’re eating.

We can’t hardly get through the day anymore without getting 20+ recommendations on what to eat. And you know what they say, opinions are like assholes… they leave a bad taste in your mouth. All kidding aside though, food is a lot like music in that it’s something which is consumed by everyone you know every day. Everyone has opinions on it, and everyone thinks their opinion is well-informed and superior, even if it’s not.

Doesn't get much more fresh and local than this.

For better or worse, the internet, cable TV and the general proliferation of information have largely erased what was once thought of as the mainstream. In the new century we’re all renaissance men, and in the same way that people are no longer satisfied with lowest-common-denominator generic rock ‘n roll, Swanson dinners and blue plate specials have also become relics of the last century. Just as iTunes and Last.fm can build you personalized playlists of niche artists, there’s now an endless drone of voices telling you where, what and how you should eat.

Something the foodie movement and food industry have been able to do very successfully is to make people believe the myth that eating well equates to living well. It does not. Most of your great starving artists were just that… starving. Looking back at some of the more revered persons of history (Jesus Christ, Ghandi, Nelson Mandela) they didn’t eat very well at all. Any life worth living has been sustained by food, not centered on it. The TV ideals of sophisticated dinner parties, downtown tasting menus and “authenticity” are merely the by-products of a happy life. You can’t eat your way to happiness.

It’s gotten to the point where the Chop can no longer watch Food Network or the Travel Channel. Can’t thumb through domestic magazines or even read food blogs anymore. It’s a shame, because there are a lot of really great food and restaurant blogs based in Baltimore. It’s just such a crowded niche that it quickly becomes an echo chamber. In someplace like NYC or SF, it may well be different but here there are only so many restaurants, and they’re all known quantities. New ones make or break their names in no time, and they do it the old fashioned way, by word of mouth. After all, a friend’s opinion will always trump a blogger’s.

These guys weren't eating poached quail eggs and strawberry-guava foam. Yet somehow they still managed to live full and complete lives.

Just as we’ve turned 30 and reached a sort of ‘musical maturity’ where taste is refined, the old favorites are relied upon heavily, and new artists need to prove themselves substantial to receive much attention, so it is with food. There’s just no pressing need to try every new restaurant, to hit the farmers’ market every weekend, to seek out exotic ingredients or to wow ’em at dinner parties. We just eat what we like.

Speaking of wowing ’em at the dinner parties, that might be the thing that bothers most about foodie culture. People who talk at length about what they’ve eaten or photograph their food for the internet are merely showing off. Showing off is distinctly un-Baltimore. It runs contrary to the entire ethos of this city, where (historically) we all live in rowhouses, go to work together, cheer our teams together, and eat our crabs (or bull-and-oysters, or pancake suppers, or fried chicken, silver queen and tomatoes) together. This rush toward SOLE food is kind of akin to the 6 year old who demands something different from what the family’s eating at dinner.

Which is silly, because the best food we’ve ever had comes literally from our grandmothers’ kitchens. Recipes from Mrs. Kittering and the Junior League are every bit as delicious when you make them now as they were when they were made decades ago.

Anyone who really wants to eat well is encouraged to skip the trendy restaurants, and try the basement of the nearest Methodist Church instead.

Talent Night @ Rocket to Venus Tonight

Remember when Married With Children used to come on every Sunday? And Roc? Don’t play, you know you all loved Roc. Remember when the Simpsons was really funny like 15 years ago? Yeah. That was cool.

Unfortunately, Sunday TV isn’t what it used to be. While Cadinals vs. Brewers on Sunday Night Baseball is somewhat interesting, we’re already watching the O’s today, so come primetime we’re probably gonna be ready for a baseball break. So we’re looking to head out to Rocket to Venus.

RTV hosts it's first Talent Night tonight. 9:30 pm

Instead of suffering another episode of that Jack Black wannabe dude in Sons of Tucson, we’re going to watch a bunch of our friends and neighbors make asses of themselves in Rocket’s first ever Talent Night tonight.

Be warned: the definition of talent here is pretty loose, and everyone will win and all must have prizes. We’re expecting it will be a hipster version of Letterman’s Stupid Human Tricks, but you get what you pay for in America, and this fiasco is free. It’s also sponsored by Buchanan Taps, so presumably there will be beer specials.

If not, we might just have to show off our talent for bitching and moaning, which is legend in this town.

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RTV is at 3660 Chestnut Ave. 410-235-7887. Talent night begins at 9:30. Email buck@rockettovenus.com for more info.

100 Heads for Haiti Opens @ SPUR Gallery Tonight

Well, the Chop has been miserably sick with common cold this week, and as much as we wish it were so, all that Jim Beam and Ginger we drank at Opening Day yesterday is not exactly a curative elixir. So we’re going to be brief today.

We’d like to tell you about all the very cool stuff that’s going on in town tonight. If we could we’d be five places at once. We’ll have to settle for telling you where we’re actually going though, which is the 100 Heads for Haiti opening at SPUR Gallery.

100 Heads for Haiti opens tonight at Spur Gallery (which looks vaguely Hatian, but is actually in Hampden) 6 pm - 8:30 pm.

100 heads is an idea so simple it’s brilliant. 100 artists have donated work on the theme of Heads, which will all be priced at $100. After they’ve all sold, SPUR will donate $10,000 to Doctors Without Borders, who are doing a lot of the heavy lifting down in Haiti.

There is also a group poster of the heads, with prints available for a $50 donation.

Since it’s for charity and all, the Chop might just fuck around and hit our two-piece-per-customer limit. We’ve heard from an inside source that some of these heads are jaw-dropping pieces of art, and at that price, we’ll jump at the chance to get some more work on our walls. Even Juxtapoz is giving the show some love.

100 Heads for Haiti opens tonight at Spur Gallery (which looks vaguely Hatian, but is actually in Hampden, Hon.) 6 pm - 8:30 pm.

After the show we’re heading downtown to a mustache themed party we were invited to. The Chop has been letting the beard grow all week, and Saturday afternoon we’ll mow it all down and rock a sweet ‘stache, which will in turn me mown down Sunday morning (Sorry, ladies.)

We’ve got very mixed feelings about such ironically themed parties. Most of us thinks that irony is dumb and you should outgrow it at about 23. Then another part of us says ‘Who the fuck are you too cool for? Your friend was nice enough to invite you so get the fuck over yourself, grow a mustache, go drink beer with your friends and have fun!’ So you can see the dilemma. The Chop skipped the Jortz party, which was definitely a theme too far. But we’re rocking a ‘stache tonight.

Laugh if you will.

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Spur Design’s gallery is at 3504 Ash Street in Hampden. Exhibition opens tonight from 6- 8:30 pm. For more info: info@supurdesign.com or
410.235.7803

Orioles Opening Day @ Camden Yards Today

1954 Opening Day parade courtesy of the Baltimore Sun

Like we said way back in December, Opening Day is the real New Years’. The Baltimore Chop could scarcely be more excited for the season. Not because we expect great things on the field, or because we have great seats, or even because the weather is gorgeous. No. We’re excited merely because when the lights are up and the boys are on the grass, time will stand still. As long as the game goes on watches stop, tomorrow never comes, and everything outside the gates exists in a different world entirely. This year becomes connected to all the years of our lives.

This is the magic of baseball.

And judging by the availability of tickets, a lot of you are excited too. The ol’ Chop was thrown for a loop, since we’ve been out of town for the last several openers, and we remember hearing that about ten thousand loyal souls showed up last year. We kind of figured most of you are working for a living, and that we had the market cornered on weekday day games (our favorite games of all). So we were shocked, shocked! when all we could get more than a week in advance was 4 in the upper deck, none of them together and all 4x the bargain night price we’re used to.

So be it. We’re gathering Roommate and two other loyal Choppers here at our stately North Baltimore pleasure dome for a mid-morning brunch. And by brunch we mean los huevos rancheros, French Toast, per-taters, bloody mary’s with the old bay rim, madras’, and yeah… champagne. Cause that’s how we roll.

The national anthem plays on opening day 1954. Courtesy of the Baltimore Sun

After that we cab it down to the MRT and do Boh’s for lunch, before hopping onto the light rail for a little Camden Street festivities before we cop a spot on Eutaw and begin texting everyone else we know who has tickets with the obligatory “What section are you in, come drink with us!” message til we figure out where to sit for the rest of the game, cause let’s face it… there’s got to be some place.

This is just the first of many trips to the yard over the coming months. hell, we might even hit up Matt Wieters t-shirt Tuesday this week cause you know… 14 orange t-shirts in the drawer is never enough.

Cal Jr. rounds 3rd on opening day of his rookie season, 1982 Courtesy of the Baltimore Sun

We’re also signed up for our slot on The Daily Camden over at Welcome to Baltimore, Hon, which is one of the most ambitious and ingenious ideas a Baltimore blog has had in quite some time. Check it out.

The International League Orioles opening day at Oriole Park (29th and Greenmount), 1937. <i>Courtesy of the Baltimore Sun</i>

Or if you’re the impatient type, and want to see a bunch of great photos right now, you can check out the Baltimore Sun’s archive of past opening day photos, from which we borrowed the pictures for this post.

Happy New Years’ Baltimore!

Ted Leo and the Pharmacists @ 9:30 Club Tonight

Every once in a while, the Chop likes to play a little game called Name a band that could compel us to drive to the 9:30 club. So far, it’s been a losing endeavor. It’s hard to think of any band in America right now that could do it. Some acts (like Morrissey or the Pixies) could, but they’ve outgrown 9:30, and are usually prohibitively expensive. We’ve taken a principled stance against almost all reunion tours, and turn up our nose at them. Most of our favorite bands going today are too small to book into 9:30, and the ones who fit there (like Ranier Maria or the Hold Steady) We’ve seen too many times before to bother with 9:30.

The Gaslight Anthem is the one band who might maybe convince us to set foot inside the 9:30 club.

So we’re totally skipping out on Ted Leo when he plays there tonight with Screaming Females and Obits.

Ted Leo plays the 9:30 Club tonight. 7 pm doors.

We can understand why some indie kids go totally nuts for Ted Leo. We get it. Problem is, we like him just okay. The Chop has seen Ted Leo plenty of times before, and in truth he’s always been one of our favorite performers to heckle. Maybe it’s because all those kids do love him so much. Maybe it’s because he’s a good sport and can give as good as he gets. Maybe it’s because yelling out the names of Elvis Costello songs hits a little too close to home. Whatever it is, we can scarcely help ourselves when Ted hits the stage.

So if we’re not rocking out in DC tonight, what are we doing? Being a responsible fucking grown-ass adult, that’s what. Stacking up that paper, that’s what. Everyday we hustlin’, that’s what.

Yeah. We’re going down to the union hall for the monthly meeting today. While we’re there, we’re going to collect a few G’s that are owed to the Chop. After that, we’re going to stop fucking around and file our taxes so we can get our $8000 Obama Money Tax Credit that we’re owed for buying our stately North Baltimore pleasure dome.

What’s our reward for acting so responsibly all day? We get to go to Target and bring home one of these, so that when we go to watch Brian Matusz pitch tonight with a six of Clipper City and a bag of Utz, it’ll be in icy-cool conditioned air.

The best part? Roommate’s going to the show, and we’ve got the place to ourselves for the night.