B. R. Myers sums it up in his book review The Moral Crusade Against Foodies (subtitled “Gluttony dressed up as foodie-ism is still gluttony.”) in the March issue of The Atlantic. I’ve always had a hard time with the term. I suspect it’s because deep down I feel guilty and selfish for being borderline obsessed with food. Myers writes that foodies are “single-minded … and single-mindedness—even in less obviously selfish forms—is always a littleness of soul.” Ouch. Also, it’s probably because I just wouldn’t be accepted. After all, I can’t stand eggs.
Robert Sietsema defines foodies more broadly in his post on the Village Voice blog Yes, Foodies Are Ridiculous. But then so is B.R. Myers!
[Foodism is] a banner behind which everyone is welcome to march. It isn’t limited to people who can enjoy a $300 dinner at Per Se, but also includes the fellow who hikes an extra block or two to buy a favorite jar of peanut butter, or a mom who puts love into a simple dish for her kids.
It’s a nicer definition for sure and one that I could live with. But I suspect it’s not most people’s definition. I think I’ll stick to being just a home cook.