First appeared on Food Riot, by Danguole Lekaviciute
No, not Nomcore. That actually doesn't sound so bad.
If you're not up to speed yet, Normcore is the name... of a thing. The thing being fashion-conscious types -- the ones who rocked handlebar mustaches and flower crowns yesterday, dressing like extras in Seinfeld. On purpose. We're talking puffy white sneakers with Velcro, high-waisted mom/dad jeans, performance fleece, and anything with the Nike swoosh. Normal is the new cutting-edge, you see.
Fiona Duncan describes it this way in New York Magazine:
"... embracing sameness deliberately as a new way of being cool, rather than striving for 'difference' or 'authenticity.' In fashion, though, this manifests itself in ardently ordinary clothes. Mall clothes. Blank clothes. The kind of dad-brand non-style you might have once associated with Jerry Seinfeld, but transposed on a Cooper Union student with William Gibson glasses."
It's not that far-fetched to assume this kind of sentiment might someday enter the trend-conscious world of dining. The food realm is just as focused on uniqueness and authenticity (whatever that means anymore) as fashion. So what does food #normcore look like? How would "ardently ordinary" manifest on your dinner plate?
For funsies, I imagine a world where:
The TV genre of "dude travels, you get to watch him eat strange and wonderful things" becomes "dude goes to Subway, you get to watch him decide whether to get oil and vinegar."
No matter how expensive the restaurant, all servers dress like Jennifer Aniston in Office Space and bring you bowls of Cheerios.
"Is it local?" becomes "Is it factory-made? On second thought, can we go inject the chickens with steroids ourselves? I'm sorry to be so high-maintenance. I just really wanna make sure that thing is JUICED."
Food bloggers buy Tupperware as props.
Pinterest is full of bologna sandwiches on Wonder bread -- on rustic wood surfaces, natch. Speaking of Pinterest: office water coolers are the new mason jar. Deal with it.
Couponing earns the street cred of foraging.
Corn replaces quinoa, kale and salted caramel. Corn smoothies and juices are everywhere, and that sanctimonious Chris Traeger type at your office is constantly carrying around a little Ziploc bag of corn.
I Can't Believe It's Not Butter makes a massive comeback. Its chemical structure gets tattooed on every other hipster cook's arm -- and the other half are sporting (you guessed it) ears of corn on the bicep.
Your charcuterie plate is Lunchables and you love it. You. F*ing. Love it.
The guacamole is not extra. They practically pay you to take it away.
Lastly, everything is a casserole now. Enchiladas, whether you roll them or not, are a casserole. Nachos are a casserole. Gratin? Casserole. Lasagna? Casse-freaking-role.
All in all, if this dad-jeans-of-food craze happens, it could be worse, you guys. Take heart. We could be in the middle of a Jell-O mold salad resurgence or something.
Meanwhile, I'm out recruiting members for my Nomcore band, if you're interested.
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