Am I serious? Privilege? Yes. At least when I'm not joking. While privilege can teach you what color shoes to wear with navy blue, nothing beats the privilege of being alive. So let's talk style, in the context of culture. Let's focus on the over-50. For more, please go here. Or you can reach me at my email: firstname.lastname@example.org. That's the name I wanted to be called when I was 16. Ah. 16....
For my generation there is no longer any such thing as High WASP food per se. The dispersion of the original New England, New York, and Philadelphia crews across the nation put an end to any thought of a unique culinary set. You will find us eating caviar that thinks it’s ice cream at the French Laundry, salads with roast chicken at our corporate cafeteria, congealed pizza brought in by admins for an all-day meeting at our law firms, take out poached salmon from Whole Foods in front of the entire DVD set of the Sopranos, carnitas from the taqueria in the Latin American neighborhood in the next town, offal at a fancy Italian restaurant in San Francisco, no matter. We don’t use any Campbell’s Soups in our recipes. We cook from scratch altogether. We are probably more likely than average to eat carefully, to watch our weight, to try to stay healthy. But that’s a side effect of privilege. Once you realize you are unlikely to die of hunger, or cold, you start worrying about dying of overindulgence. And you bring that High WASP code of conduct to bear on eating. Nothing too-too.
I can make no cultural claims to what you eat. Enjoy. Dig in. Just make sure you have a napkin nearby. Because place settings are another thing altogether. China? Glassware? Silverware? Tablecloths? And let’s not even get started on candlesticks…