Cape Town Good Food and Wine Show

THE GOOD FOOD AND WHINE WHORE

The Cape Town Good Food and Wine Show is nothing more than an orgy of advertising and a culmination of Western consumerism. There is nothing new on offer and nothing you haven’t seen before. There is certainly nothing that can be deemed as “food appreciation” – the only appreciation I had was for the hot chefs and waiters.

There are far too many people, too many children and too many prams being pushed over and into people. Babies should be banned from this event. They will sell tickets until they reach their maximum capacity, because it’s all about making money at the end of the day. Even Maserati was tacky enough (or perhaps opportunistic enough) to have a car displayed at the show, although it is neither a food nor a wine. There were several dumping grounds for children where they could bake cookies and cakes – nothing novel then, just another excuse for mommy and daddy to go drink. The most disgusting things were the ATMs slotted into the backs of cars so that people could draw more money to buy more things they don’t need. How 1920s.

There were no books on offer – neither recipe books nor food books. Nothing to prompt or encourage learning, discovery or appreciation of food and wine nor its background, or various cultures and countries and how they dine. Never mind haute cuisine, it was not even worthy of the “food porn” label – it was brand trafficking: consumerism and commercialism thinly veiled as “good food and wine”. I did not see or learn anything new, as I had expected and hoped to.

Of course, along with all the usual brands was Master Chef punting and plotting to increase its viewership. I love the show (at least the British version), but even this has turned into a corporate-vehicle raping another art form. Truly, the whole event is nothing more than one big advertisement and a channel for shops and restaurants to get rid of their old stock.

I do not exempt myself from this madness. I stocked up on cheap booze and sampled and tasted to my heart’s content. I even attended a Lindt Chocolate Theatre show where the poor patissiers prostituted themselves to a pretentious and ungrateful audience. At least I learnt a little bit here, as they made macaroons and allowed us to eat them. I also had no complaints about the four slabs of Lindt chocolate I received and as restaurants, chefs and food networks continue to drop their trousers and open their legs for their paying customers and I write abut them, I guess it makes me nothing more than their pimp.

Photo credit: Cape Town Magazine

 Originally published on Dinner and a Movie.

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