I recently caught up with a winter hibernation guide to imbibing in the stylized aura of shimmering Mad Men cocktails. It reminded me of the lingerings of respectable grown-ups drinking with impunity. They maintain their own obliviousness when the tumbler is shaken by the vaunted fictions of the camera. And what of their children? Are we still smarting from their own pungent tipsiness?
What characters sense and taste in memories and cinema is the ultimate stirring. It is an enterprise bursting to infect the communications pathways of entire marketing planets. Ladies and gents: from our gaping doors to your devouring eyes we bring you the Museum of Food.
That's the taste we smell through our sights -- the entrees and spirits captured in the evocative restaurants of film and the eat-in kitchens of classic sitcoms. The Food Network, the literal version of eye candy, has spawned a foodie offspring on most of its rivaling channels. The contents of those 2D sauce pans and table settings jettison chefs into a select crowd of scientific entertainers. Imagine when you swap out the kitchen help for the celebrated dining scenes, staffed by fully established franchises of fame. Who needs to reheat yesterday's leftovers when you're rolling out the specials on today's menu?
Knowing one's audience is to understand its taste for celebrity appetites. The campaign is zipless in its execution. No introductions are necessary. The script writes itself. The credit goes to that recipe -- the one insisted on by the audience. Which audience? Do you need to ask, dear? We're all on a first name basis here.
The familiar ingredients free us to portion control our connections to food events (formerly known as meals). They situate us in places (formerly known as physical locations). These seasonings could only be conjured up by our shared emotional histories with the actors we park under our cultural limelights.
So what does this have to do with more posts about museums and food?
A food museum would be the showcase for the re-enactment of celebrity meal scenes. From a tourism angle the concept is eminently franchisable. Each licensed property answers to the expectation of aromatic exhibitionism. The gift shop is the cafeteria. The advertising and the photo gallery are one in the same. Each chapter would festoon their cultural watersheds, local flavors, and neighborhoods of community food rituals. In effect, the first food chain set to endless variation. That's the pull of culinary sensuality in the food court of public opinion.
How could this play out theme-by-theme among the planet's food enthusiasts in the great dining halls of any Cosmo city of our vast global village?
- Science wing: Food as medicine, nutritional supplements (friend or faux), organics v. industrial farming ...
- Sports arena: Ticketed bake-offs between master chefs, gaming concessions since the Romans ...
- Spiritual chapel: Biblical scenes and customary rituals ...
- Fashion runway: Dinner jackets, cocktail dresses, bulking up of American XXL ...
- Design pavilion: Interiors of watering holes from neighborhood taverns to western saloons, and Irish pubs ...
- Philanthropy: A percent of the proceeds go to local food pantries ...
Apart from the charitable donations I haven't landed a single loaded insinuation on the inflammatory minefields of food policy. Sure I'm letting obesity suit up as its own fashion statement. But do you hear me leafleting here for animal rights? How about the subsidizing of empty, cheap, diabetic-inducing calories? We're going to have to take that fight outside our 501c3 status, food museum goers!
We're going to have to stock those future flame wars in the freezer section and score brownie points on what we know. That would not be hunger but appetites -- especially the gurgling bellies of stars from stage, screen, tables and bar stools. Hey bub -- I can still see their mugs on the wall while I'm waiting for my own table to clear.
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