I don’t think I can be accused of being a snob. After my “humble origins,” as they say, the jobs I’ve held, and my general attitude toward life, arrogance and snobbery are not among my traits. Yes, I got my PhD from Berkeley, but I don’t shout that as a part of my status (even though that degree was a ticket to a better career and life). However, there are a couple of areas in which I do veer a bit into the realm of snobosity.
(One of the subtexts of this blog is to improve my writing, and I always criticized my students for repeating the same words in a single paragraph. Hence, “snobosity.”)
When it comes to eating Chinese food, I maintain that chopsticks are necessary for its full enjoyment. I learned to use them early on and, if not tired, can pick up a grain of rice with mine. I applaud others who use them, and feel bad when arthritis or other hand pain precludes their use. At a restaurant, when I see someone scooping their food up with a fork, I think, “Wow, slow down and savor it.” And I recall, with the same eye-rolling that still recurs all these years later, being at a Chinese restaurant near Berkeley, when a woman who was ordering for herself and her husband, ended the order with the imperious command, “And bring us forks!” (Chopsticks were provided, with forks only at request. Back East, I’ve found that forks are often the default setting.)
I’m also a little snobby about wine. Not that I know anything about it; I just know what I like. At the top of my wine list is Merlot, though I have been known to stray into other dry reds. But give me a wine that’s watery, or has little taste (or small size—why serve a swallow of wine in a giant goblet?) and my wine snobbery kicks in. The sign is that little nose crinkle of snobbihood that says, “Oh, my, no…”
Finally, I’m more snobby about beer. I tend to rate beer taste as compared to my favorite, Anchor Steam, generally only available in the San Francisco Bay Area. I usually order my second favorite , Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, when it’s available. But—for years I didn’t like IPAs. “Too hoppy!” I’d say, along with all the other people who don’t like IPAs. And then, one day in a restaurant, IPAs were pretty much all they had, I ordered one, and quelle surprise! I liked it! As if a switch for IPAs had been turned on in my brain. So I do order them on a regular basis if I find one that doesn’t taste too much like someone brewed it with a fruit basket sitting at the bottom of the vat.
One other note on beers. When I ask for the draft beer list and get the usual American litany of, “Bud, Bud Lite, Miller, Miller Lite, Coors, Coors Light…” I do the nose crinkle and a head shake. And I remember the old joke that asks, “Why is American beer like making love in a canoe?”
Because it’s f****** close to water.
What are you snobby about? Let me know in the comments, and please like and follow!
MUSOFYR 