FILE -- A diner takes a picture of her ramen, in New York, June 19, 2013. Social media and photo-sharing sites like Instagram can help a restaurant gain attention, but some chefs might be guilty of sacrificing taste in the quest for a picture-perfect dish.
Rick Nelson and Claude Peck dispense unasked-for advice about clothing, etiquette, culture, relationships, grooming and more.
CP: Look at you, photographing your small plate once again. What’s up with that?
RN: I know, I’ve become one of those people. Please don’t hate me. It’s for work. Swear.
CP: No worries. Your fans and followers demand nothing less. Do you think that All Things Foodie have gotten out of hand, or is this just the tip of the asparagus?
RN: Despite the occasional feelings of supreme overload, I have the feeling that we’ve only just scratched the surface. That said, I will admit that I’ve unplugged some food- and hooch-obsessed Facebook pals because they’ve posted one too many images of savory waffles or deconstructed strawberry shortcakes. E-chronicling one’s eating and drinking adventures has become the new scrapbooking.
CP: I could happily shuffle off this mortal coil without seeing another socially networked image of the top of a skinny latté.
RN: I remember a dinner in the early days of Twitter — maybe six years ago? — when a brilliant food-writing pal of mine went all Annie Leibovitz with her iPhone during an eight-course dinner, annoyingly diverting her attention to an unseen audience while ignoring the people at the table. Of course, within weeks she became — and remains — my Twitter role model.
CP: When I was a kid, I hated having to sit there in front of some food, not touching a bite until Dad said grace.
RN: I’ll one-up you. At extended family get-togethers, we sing grace. “Be Present at Our Table, Lord” — sometimes in Norwegian — went on forever when I was a pup.