Dear all "Foodstagrams,"
Let's start by saying I'm only slightly embarrassed by the sheer number of you that I actually follow on Instagram. From the best spots to eat in NYC, the Hudson Valley, Florence, or anywhere in the world, there is absolutely never a lack of overly-filtered foods on my Instagram feed. Your accounts have more followers combined than some religious groups.
Ya know, there are times when I'm envious. How is it possible that you've managed to get just the right angle? The perfect filter? How do you make me instantly want sushi/pancakes/a seven layer cake in some elaborate shape? You always know the precise moment to strike-- when I'm hungriest. I wish I knew how you did it. I didn't even know I wanted pancakes with toasted pecans and whipped cream with a bacon maple donut on the side until you put them right under my nose.
I've somehow managed to find one of you "Foodstagrams" for just about every occasion. Breakfast? Check. Brunch? Done. International eats? Yup. "Cheat day" treats? Yeah. Strictly pizza/bagels/pasta? Guilty. I won't be at a loss of where to eat or what to order for probably the next three years, at least. I'm pretty thankful for you, Foodstagrams. Because of you, I have lists and lists on my phone titled "Places to eat in..." You can fill in the blank with a minimum of four different cities.
It's also because of you, "Foodstagrams," that I've had some serious moments of low self-esteem. It's pretty awkward when a seemingly flawless picture of a gourmet cheeseburger or decadent ice cream sundae is way better looking than you'll ever be (AND gets more likes than that selfie you just posted!). The natural beauty of food just can't be competed with. No amount of time in front of a mirror will ever change that.
Sometimes I think of starting my own "Foodstagram." I've taken some pretty decent pictures of some pretty good food. I could gain a solid following of people looking to try the things I've eaten.
And then I'm reminded of every time I'm in a restaurant and see someone rearrange the food on the table. Or stand in an awkward position to get the perfect angle of their food. Or holds everybody up from eating to take a picture of everything on the table. All in the name of a "Foodstagram."
While I don't plan on unfollowing any of you anytime soon, I also won't be joining the dark side. I do enjoy a good picture of some exotic dish that rivals a Picasso. But I also think food has a more important place than on Instagram: on a plate, in front of me, about to eaten.
