There are times where I feel silly for not advocating for myself…to myself…enough. (What does that mean, girl.) Well, it means that during the course of my dinner this past Saturday at Butcher and the Boar, I didn’t take any pictures. I talked myself out of it. I got embarrassed at the thought of being another girl with an iPhone who was Instagramming her meal and taking pictures and being all teenage-y. In my mind, a 22 year old woman taking her friend out to dinner, looking wonderful and classy, should avoid food photographs.
Jury’s still out on that one. People may poke fun at recreational food photography, but at the end of the day I should have talked back to myself and said, “You’re going to want to write something about your meal, and you’re going to want photographs, by God, take a stupid picture! Maybe be a little sneaky, but take a picture!” Here’s the thing. Don’t let anyone tell you you shouldn’t commit a delicious meal to memory. Do not: take 100 photos, let your food get cold, take shitty photos & share them shamelessly, post 100 photos to Facebook, brag (too much), think that your food photos belong in God’s own Food Scrapbook. Don’t. But a few photos? Yes. If only for the personal satisfaction of looking back at them later and remembering what a delicious meal it was, indeed.