Everything changes, there’s no stopping that. And I’ll admit that nostalgia often edits my memory of the past. That said, I still I hate to think that my old neighborhood, a once-unique and diverse community, has become just another yuppie enclave where every household is the same and all the people look and think alike.

If you were running from the law and didn’t want to be found, you could easily hide in the new Eastern Market community. You’d just have to don some black leather shoes, artificially roughed-up designer jeans, a gray, wool sweater overlapped by an intentionally unkempt shirt collar, and black-rimmed glasses. No one would be able to pick you out of a lineup of your peers. You’d be hidden in plain sight, free to enjoy your mochachocofrappaccino, lightly roasted in a carbon-neutral oven, frothed with organic soy milk and served in a recycled paper cup, all while conspicuously perusing the latest piece by David Sedaris in this month’s issue of The New Yorker.

If you wanted to double-down, you could also listen to a podcast of This American Life with your white ear buds. That way the cord would stand out in stark contrast from your dark sweater and people’s eyes would be drawn down the bright, slender wire to your table, where your new iPod Touch rests next to your congressional ID badge and Che Guevara key chain. You’d blend in so well that no one walking by would recognize your face. They wouldn’t recognize the contradiction on the table either.

In a recent episode of Top Chef, the American cooking show I appear on, I complained about the other judges’ insistence on pronouncing ‘paella’ as ‘py-ay-a’. ‘You don’t say “Bar-the-lona” or “Me-hi-co”,’ I pointed out. ‘So why say ‘py-ay-a’?’ I thought this was fairly uncontroversial, but it was as if I had just produced a white hood and a burning cross. [...] the only people who take offence if you Anglicise foreign words are upper-middle-class Caucasian Americans. They imagine that other, less fortunate people will be insulted by your ‘imperialist’ attitude and they get offended on their behalf. In fact, to imagine that non-English-speakers are a poor, victimised group, requiring the protection of the American elite, is far more condescending than mispronouncing non-English words.

I don’t know why, but this is a huge pet peeve of mine. I’ve even had a similar conversation.

I used to share an office with a guy who was reared in the elite private schools of Northwest DC. He was an okay fellow for the most part, but his condescension towards those he viewed as his social inferiors was repugnant. He would go off on tangents about the commoners (he didn’t use that word, of course) and I would mostly ignore him. One day, when someone was chatting with me in our office, he interrupted us by saying, “the country (Chile) is pronounced chee-lay, not chilly,” and rolled his eyes.

I argued, “the American word is Chilly.”

He giggled and said, “there is no American word. It’s the name of their country.”

I replied by saying, “remind me again, Berlin is the capital of…”

“Germany,” he answered smugly.

I added, “and Rome is in…”

“Italy,” he answered with a hint of pique. I think that’s when he caught on.

I asked him why he didn’t say Deutschland and Italia, and he snapped back with something like, “that’s different.”

I smiled and left it at that.

As regular readers know, this elitist attitude, which is just the gilded version of bigotry, really gets under my skin. It almost always comes mixed with equal parts of ignorance and hypocrisy. In fact, the part of the article quoted above about white people being offended on behalf of the less-fortunate is so spot on that it was parodied on the blog, Stuff White People Like. By feigning empathy with poorer people, elitists hope to appear more contemplative of foreign cultural mores. As if embracing poorer cultures absolves them of the the white colonialist guilt they believe plagues our nation. But in a way, this is just the contemporary iteration of the “little brown bother” instinct that led to our invasion of the Philippines and contributed to American colonialism at the turn of the last century. So, in effect, the elitists are trying to expunge their imperialist heritage by evoking the same condescendent paternalism that enabled the American empire. How’s that for irony?

Obviously, elitism infects every issue in some way, but its growing influence over cooking is really starting to piss me off. I don’t know if it’s the growing popularity of celebrity chefs, the emergence of cooking appliances as status symbols, or the cult-like locavore movement, but suddenly everyone is a culinary expert and eating has become an exercise in social climbing. Many people think that because I shop at farmers markets and subscribe to magazines like Gourmet and Bon Appetit, I’m one of the initiated. They regale me with tales of gastronomical adventures throughout the world and the lengths they go to ensure that their food is organic and in season. They complain about friends and family members who neither know where their food comes from nor recycle their waste. They even go so far as to let me in on secret places where you can still get wild salmon that comes from sustainable schools in carefully regulated waters. I take more delight than they’ll ever know by replying, “that’s great to know, but you can get all the wild salmon you want for half the price at Sam’s Club.”

They think I’m kidding. I’m not.

And for the record, before anyone calls me a hypocrite, I pronounce “paella” as py-ay-a. It’s just the way I was taught.

See! I told you the elitism was spreading!

Organic food has no nutritional or health benefits over ordinary food, according to a major study published Wednesday. [...] A systematic review of 162 scientific papers published in the scientific literature over the last 50 years, however, found there was no significant difference. [...] “Our review indicates that there is currently no evidence to support the selection of organically over conventionally produced foods on the basis of nutritional superiority.”

As with any myth that is debunked, many believers will either discount the scientific research that invalidates their superstitions or they’ll reshuffle their supposed motivations.

The greenest of the green will scream that this research was funded by “corporations,” and they’ll point to some opinion piece from Mother Jones or Living Green Magazine as if it’s a reliable counterweight to 50 years of peer-reviewed research. Others will say, “I support organic produce because it involves more recycling, not healthier food.” Well, good for them. We’ll also hear cries that, “organics were never about being healthier, they were always about sustainability and respect for the land.” Fair enough. But what are the rest of us to think when we’ve been beaten over the brain with erroneous claims that “organic is better for you,” only to learn that it’s not true? And what are we to think when the eco-warriors move the goalposts yet again, farther out of the realm of science and deeper into the subjective realms of morality and conscientiousness.

I’m not saying that “green” is necessarily a bad thing. In fact, there are enough good aspects of the trend that ardent supporters don’t need to sell a lie. I’m only saying that if the eco-warriors would learn they can catch more flies with honey than vinegar, then they wouldn’t come out looking like idiots and hypocrites when the facts get in the way of their self-aggrandizing revolution.

This doesn’t mean that organic brands will suffer as people learn they offer no nutritional benefit, or that erudite eaters will suddenly start shopping at Walmart. For many people, “green” is a fashion rather than function. Much of the organic movement is little more than sloganeering that stokes people’s fears and superstitions. It gives them the self assurance that comes from feeling like they belong to some more educated, more conscientious subset within their community. Consumer-oriented producers and manufacturers (i.e. those evil corporations) have been only too happy to exploit these people by “greenwashing” their existing line and selling less product for more money.

For instance, if you have a high efficiency washer and dryer (which I do), you pay a large premium for detergent that has less water in the formula. That’s the only difference. You’d think that less water would equate to a lower price, but you’d be wrong. You’re not buying high efficiency detergent; you’re buying a brand that sets you apart form the unengaged masses who selfishly stress getting a good deal over making a social statement. It’s the same reason Coke and Pepsi charge as much for their bottled water brands, Dasani and Aquafina respectively, as they do for their colas. And it’s the same reason why consumers pay a premium for hybrid cars that’s too large to ever make up for with fuel savings.

But these people aren’t paying a premium for nothing. They’ve bought the right to say don’t just pay lip service to the environment. They pay dollars!

What a bunch of silliness. The prophets of green are as ubiquitous as the health nuts who praised nutritional and moral pseudoscience at the end of the 19th century. Today, just as it was then, it’s the affluent and the authoritarian who flock to the new trend in droves. Last time, it was all about nutrition, enemas and exercise. This time, it’s all about organics, recycling and maintaining a sustainable lifestyle.

We started our kids on organic pureed butternut squash baby food and now they’re chopping summer squash for succotash with a butter knife. They started by eating string cheese and they’re now savoring Stilton. We avoided ancho chiles, but they unexpectedly taught us that they love anchovies. The moral of the story is: don’t cook down to your kids. Cook with them.

The writer is trying a little hard for alliteration (pun intended). This is from Rule 1, “Feed Them Perfect Produce”

Buy the best, ripe, in-season, local produce you can find, whether at a grocery store or farmer’s market. Asparagus in spring to teach your kids the essential less [sic] of eating seasonally and locally. Strawberries in summer. Apples in fall. Citrus in winter. Perfection. Perfection. Perfection.

Here’s more from Rule 6, “Be Honest’”

Chicken is from a bird. Beef is from a cow. Pork is from a pig. Tell your kids the truth about animals and they can make their own choices about what they’re comfortable eating (old Macdonald [sic] had a farm and he had an oink oink for bacon; remember that one?). Our 7 year old omnivore Violet knows the deal and has come to the decision that she doesn’t like the deal, but she still hasn’t given up good old cured meat like bacon or prosciutto. It’s too yummy for now. We’ve taught her about the difference between happily raised animals and sadly raised factory farm ones, but her heart’s just not into the carnivore thing right now.

In a perfect world, all parents would engage their children about food in this manner… after the au pair has read them this week’s chapter from The Omnivore’s Dilemma and before the whole family kneels and begs Gaia to absolve them of their exhalations.

I picture the writer of this article to be like these people. Instead of tasting the American classics, this guy’s poor kids are probably stupefying their classmates with tales of their carbon neutral camping trip to the living room where they ate organic tofu links served in oat-crusted artisan buns, accompanied by fingerling potato straws with roasted garlic aioli dipping sauce. Perfection. Perfection. Perfection.

First it was “food as fashion” and now it’s “eating as a life choice.” Give me a break. I have one rule when it comes to food: If it tastes good, I eat it. Naturally, many factors affect how much of anything I eat, but I don’t look down my nose at the staples of average American cuisine. Just as you don’t have to hate chocolate to prove how much you like vanilla, you don’t have to knock easily attainable food to prove that you have the time and determination to shop around for the freshest stuff.

One problem with this new “local, organic and in season” fad (and it is a fad) is that it places an unearned premium on locally-grown foods, thereby depressurizing the price war that keeps food relatively cheap for all. That means everyone can and will start charging more for the food they produce simply because the median price has shifted. This creates an indirect, regressive tax on the poor, who are often the same people selling backyard crops for extra money at the farmers market in the first place. What’s worse, it rewards the less-efficient organic growing methods over the more productive ones, meaning that the local fields will yield fewer crops each season, thereby resulting in less revenue for said farmers. It I know, I know, it’s a vicious cycle.

All of that is fine and dandy while eating “local, organic and in season” is in vogue, as the premium will probably offset the cut in production. But all of that will vanish when the chattering class moves on to the next fashion in food. And it really is all about fashion. Remember Asian fusion? How many restaurants followed that fashion into existence and closed when the fashion evolved? Just like clothing, music and modern art, the elite define themselves by their early adoptions and quick dismissals of rising trends. Erudite eaters used to sing the praises of ‘smashed’ potatoes until the dish became ubiquitous. Now they’ve moved on to authentic Oaxacan mole.

It seems that posh is out and peasant is in. It’s the culinary equivalent of slumming. And just like with slumming, the experience is as much about discovering and adoring alien things as it is about having people see you discover and adore alien things. When the shock value wears off, so does the adoration.

Next year, after some New York City bistro starts buying exotic grains that are flown in weekly from a small village in India, people will stop talking about the carbon footprints of their ingredients and start gossiping about how you can get fresh asparagus from any farmers market, but you can only get man-eating tiger rice in the East Village. So they don’t look like total hypocrites, some of the proceeds from the rice sales will undoubtedly go to raise “awareness” for whatever grievance is popular at the moment. The fashion will have evolved from eating as a life choice to eating as empathy. Solidarity sauces will become as prevalent in elite circles as the keffiyeh. Then the fashion will evolve again, and all the trend chasers will reshuffle their morality once again in the desperate attempt to appear to have adopted the new cool before it was cool.

Look, I’m all for shopping at the farmers market, making really good food, and building a more sophisticated pallet, but people shouldn’t feel the need to put on airs about it. Eating seasonal is not exactly “essential,” and little kids shouldn’t be forced to visualize a writhing Rhode Island Red (see what I did there with the alliteration?) to justify eating some McNuggets chicken mole.

Erudite eaters need to remember that even though Julia Child helped us Americans learn how to cook elegant French cuisine, it was Clarence Birdseye who gave us the ingredients. I think a little respect is in order. And if these pretentious “foodies” have difficulty mustering any respect, I’ll be satisfied with just a little perspective.

When the economy started to squeeze the Wojtowicz family, they gave up vacation cruises, restaurant meals, new clothes and high-tech toys to become 21st-century homesteaders.

Now Patrick Wojtowicz, 36, his wife Melissa, 37, and daughter Gabrielle, 15, raise pigs and chickens for food on 40 acres near Alma, Mich. They’re planning a garden and installing a wood furnace. They disconnected the satellite TV and radio, ditched their dishwasher and a big truck and started buying clothes at resale shops.

“As long as we can keep decreasing our bills, we can keep making less money,” Patrick says. “We’re not saying this is right for everybody, but it’s right for us.”

The piece points to growing interest in Stockpiling, Gardening, Canning, Sewing and Relocating as signs of the emerging trend.

I know several people about my age who do some or all of these things, but they’re not reacting to the recession or preparing for 2012, nor are they inspired by much of the ideological silliness that thrives in the green/organic movement. I think the growth of DIY has less to do with survivalism and the economy and more to do with people just wanting to be more prepared, knowledgeable and independent.

My theory is that DIY is growing among younger people because our generation, for the most part, is much farther removed from ‘production’ than past generations. America as a whole has shifted from a manufacturing to a service economy over the past forty years. As a result, we exist in a more technological, customizable, on-demand society than people in most other countries. While I’m sure we all like getting what we want, when we want it, we’re left clawing at the curtains whenever the power goes out or the high-speed cable goes down.

We live in a concrete world, but our jobs, relationships and hobbies take place in a more abstract, virtual world. We’ve gotten to the point where many people are completely asea when something they own or desire needs to be mended or manufactured. A whole generation has grown up in a world of 3-bladed, disposable razors, boil-in-bag entrées and automatic spellcheck. In that world, most vegetables come from cans and all meat comes wrapped in cellophane. They know how to heat marinara and noodles, but not how to make them from scratch. I think that disconnect has generated a common longing for more tangible skills and more control over one’s understanding of ‘stuff.’

We DIYers have more demands than our on-demand world can fulfill. We prefer our stuff to meet our specific needs and criteria rather than settle for whatever’s on sale this week at IKEA. We like to learn and experience how seeds become strawberries, how milk becomes cheese, and how lumber becomes furniture.

I’m not saying we necessarily need to learn how to mine ore, smelt metal and machine parts in order to own a car; I think we just want to be better educated about the world around us and how it works. If you ask me, that doesn’t make us part of a fringe group of “economic survivalists.” It makes us normal. It’s the people who can’t ‘unplug’ and who can’t do for themselves that are strange.