Pigging out: Food trends and PR

A public relations professional couldn’t have done it any better. When I was a kid, skirt steak and hanger steak were the tougher, chewier, cheaper cuts of meat. End of story. Somewhere along the way, those cuts of meat got hip (though still chewy) and more expensive (supply and demand).

And then there’s the pork story. The other white meat has never been so trendy. Not only are Americans eating more pork than ever before, they’re eating it “from snout to tail.” So how did pigskin go from the field to the plate? Television shows!

HOOKED ON REALITY

Not sure what’s wrong with me.  I work hard, travel, have a daughter, friends and a loving maltese (Moose), yet I’m addicted to reality shows.  I should probably tattoo Bravo or Food somewhere on my body or at least see if they’re publicly traded.

I come home from work, make Moose and myself dinner and then start clicking away.  Anthony, Bobby, Heidi, Isaac, the NYC preps and the Real Housewives (no matter where they’re from) have become my new best friends.

Yes, I read the news and even have a stack of magazines (unlike Sarah Palin) and paperbacks on my nightstand, yet I am drawn like a magnet by the guy who eats goat guts and the doc who lets himself get bitten by bugs head to toe.  I’m amazed by the spoiled brats in NY who constantly talk sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll (wonder which colleges are actually accepting them).  And I get hungry when Flay does his throwdown and nauseous when Adam scarfs down 12 pizza with extra cheese.  Yet I stay glued to the screen.  Kinda like a train wreck.

What is it about reality shows that reels me in?  Don’t I get enough reality watching one disaster after the next every day in the news?

I’m trying my best to figure it out and I think it’s watching real people do outrageous things that turns me on.  It happens in the news, too, but by the time I see the news it’s usually over and done.  With reality TV you’re not quite sure what will happen.  So, I find myself rooting for Adam to down the last pastrami sandwich with fries or the NYC prepster to toss his hair and say something totally obnoxious or the hotties in Miami to go clubbing all night.  When they do something like that, I feel a touch more normal.  Is that normal…who knows?  All I know if that when Anthony Bourdain goes to Vietnam and rants about the food and the booze, I wish I could be by his side.  So, while Tony gets plastered, I stay plastered to my plasma. 

Will I be able to free myself from my reality habit?  Probably, but it might take a 12-step program and RA (reality anonymous) meetings. And at the moment, I’m just having too much fun.