Talking to Your Kids About Food Songs

Would you trust this man alone with your citrus?

It's the moment every parent dreads: your child approaches you with Led Zeppelin II in his hand and asks why the heck someone would write a song about a lemon. Being prepared goes a long way in talking to your kids about food music. Simply read the included text verbatim to your children, and the discussion will be over before you know it. It's better than learning about foods songs from somebody on the school bus.  

Weird Al Yankovic's Michael Jackson Trilogy

If, like me, you considered Michael Jackson's entire career a staging area for three brilliant Weird Al Yankovic parodies, you've already noticed that 100% of said parodies are about food. Jackson's music was so much raw dough to be baked in the oven of Yankovic's genius. Behold.

Jackson's "Bad" evolved from a meditation on his own ineffable rebel charm into Yankovic's "Fat": a heartbreaking confessional about struggling with obesity. (Actually, Al's song is, if anything, more confrontational—but that's just the belligerence of a deep sadness.)

The butterfly to MJ's larva.

The King of Pop's "Beat It" was a tired meditation on the fight or flight response, which is right up there with "love" in terms of innovative pop music topics. Weird Al decides to go soul searching in his version. Adopting the persona of an overbearing parent, Al dredges up all the worst nags in dinner table admonishment for "Eat It." As the song progresses, we see how genuine concern for a child's nutritional well-being can so easily slip into pathological browbeating.

Not content to simply cash in on the controversy surrounding The King of Pop's 1991 smash "Black or White," Weird Al prudently mutates the song into a series of reflections about his unnatural attachment to between-meal eating and the resulting fallout. "Snack All Night" is essential Yankovic.

"Peaches," by The Presidents of the United States of America

The lyrics to this nineties novelty are not exactly fertile ground for literary criticism. In fact, they're not really ripe for any criticism, being a string of celebratory innuendos. To the Presidents' credit (?), singer Chris Ballew claims the song is an autobiographical lament about his experience squeezing the fruit under a tree after being stood up for a romantic rendezvous. Less to their credit, the song liberally borrows from Bad Company's "Feel Like Makin' Love," a sentiment that is also, arguably, the song's real raison d'être.

"Cherry Pie," by Warrant

The Cadillac of singles.

Cherry Pie may be the only song about food that took less time to write than the titular food does to prepare. According to Warrant frontman Jani Lane, the song was penned in about fifteen minutes. The song's initial conception was scrawled down on...wait for it...a pizza box. (The box is on display at the Hard Rock Cafe in Destin, FL. This is not a compelling enough reason to visit Destin, I assure you.)  If you like this song, but want something a little sweeter, just stick it in a blender, and you'll have...

"Pour Some Sugar On Me," by Def Leppard

At least the drummer didn't lose his sugar pourin' arm. A micrometer-thin veil separates this food song's spirit from its ostensible subject matter. The tune never even specifies the type of sugar involved in the entreaty. We can assume it's HFCS if the song's own unavoidability is any indication. Though a bit off-color, this is by no means the most polarizing song about sugar. That honor goes to...

"Brown Sugar," by The Rolling Stones

Though legendary rock critic Robert Christgau calls this classic shack shaker "beyond exegesis," it is more prudence than awe that keeps our visit brief. Suffice it to say this is the entire rock cliche triad in one song, with some baffling references to great crimes of the past thrown in for good measure.

"Sugar, Sugar," by the Archies

Act now and get this collectible coaster.

Ah, finally. An honest-to-goodness song simply celebrating the virtues of...kissing? Kissing!? The title is twice as misleading as necessary! Who comes up with this stuff, Little Caesar? Next!

"Savoy Truffle," by the Beatles

A bouncy little song, as sweet as the name implies. Supposedly a song about Eric Clapton's love of chocolate, it's wise to remember that nothing is as it seems in the word of sixties food songs. This trend would change when a spate of literalism found its way into the titling tendencies of rock's icons. (See "Cocaine," by Eric Clapton, which is about cocaine, or "Heroin," by the Velvet Underground, which is about heroin, despite the banana on the cover.)

"Cheeseburger In Paradise," by Jimmy Buffett

Jimmy Buffet needs no introduction—either you know who he is, or you'll never need to. It should be no surprise that a man with an all-you-can-eat surname rose to fame on songs about epicurean delights. Though he is also fond of margaritas and Peanut Butter Conspiracies, it is "Cheeseburger In Paradise" that boasts an accompanying chain of restaurants. (Technically, Margaritavilles are only cafes...) Besides being awesome for taking a non sequitur cheap shot at the Holiday Inn hotel chain, Cheeseburger In Paradise is an oddly literate monologue of deranged craving borne by too much time at sea. It's pretty family friendly, as those go.

"A Cherry on Top," by The Knife

"A Cherry On Top" is from Shaking the Habitual, which one critic called, "A deranged beast running from a pair of fuzzy dice with machine guns." OK, that was less one critic and more just something I said. But it might not be where you'd expect to find a haiku-length song about dessert. The sweet treats invoked inside this song's fever dream borders may not be available on earth. If they are, though, I know where they're served: the diner in David Lynch's Mulholland Drive. This song's scant lyrics mention strawberry, melon, and a cherry, before finishing with a reference to coffee, evening cream, and the home of the Swedish royal family—Haga Castle. It's almost nonsense graffiti, but not quite. The warbling soundscape evokes eating a sundae at the bottom of a swimming pool on a sunny day, with little ambition to resurface.

Conclusions:

1. Lyricists overwhelmingly prefer sweets over savory items, at least as fodder for singing mostly vowel-emphasizing pop hooks. 
2. Food songs are never just about food, unless they're for children. This also goes for food blogs. It's good to know this going in.  

I hope this gives you a leg up when it's time to have The Talk. Good luck!

Eating Your Green: An Expensive Food Spotlight

Golden Burger by Thomas Hannich and Arndt von Hoff

I’m really smart, so it’s a little discouraging to think that my 3 lbs of brain matter would only fetch about $100 on the open market, while three pounds of European white truffles are worth around $10,800. It hardly seems fair.

But the Law of Supply and Demand, unlike most laws, is not made to be broken. While there is only one of my brain—and that’s as rare as “rare” can get—that’s one more than the market will bear, at least at any kind of premium.

Things are worth what people can/will pay for them. Food is no exception. Statistics about food spending invite bizarre and disturbing thoughts. For instance, world hunger is a $30 billion/year problem, while European ice cream is an $12 billion/year industry. These things have no explicit relationship, but seeing them in the same sentence may still give one pause. Rather than explore the macroeconomic social issues surrounding food spending here in this blog, I'd like to focus on the personal.  

I’m sure I don’t have to tell you: my typical reader is extraordinarily wealthy, and suffers from anxiety about how to spend his/her nearly limitless free time and money. This is  the first of what I plan to be a sporadic series on mortgage-necessitating foods. Consider this a buyer’s guide series, helping you make a wise investment in your next burger or sundae. Before we get into specifics, keep in mind these fundamental truths:

• Food begins to depreciate as soon as it leaves the store. 
• Eating gold of less than 24k could be harmful. 
• Most banks will flag the purchase of a $25,000 dessert as possible evidence of credit card fraud. You should pay in cash to remain below the radar.  
• Foie gras and Oscillococcinum are both French-produced duck-liver-based products. But not all French duck liver products are created equal.

• Expensive food can be divided into two categories, which I arbitrarily created just now:

Category 1: Intentionally Decadent Ingestibles Of Totally Inappropriate Cost. (Or I.D.I.O.T.I.C.s for short. Trademark pending.) These dishes are typically a hodgepodge of other, more naturally expensive foods. (“We start with truffles… and then smother them in gold!”) With a healthy dose of cost injection for labor and simply having all the necessary components in the same place, this sort of “destination fare” typically sports a price tag equaling the GDP of a small nation and a “wacky” name.

Category 2: “Naturally” expensive food. These single-element consumables are expensive due to rarity, demand, or necessity of extensive labor. This category includes truffles, saffron, and fine chocolate. I’d put 40-year old whiskey in this category, since its price is a function of factors associated with its production, despite the fact that designing a product that only matures when you’re hitting your midlife crises smacks of excess. This decadence is not exclusively contrived, though, as the product does undergo a physical evolution over time, rendering its increase in value at least somewhat proportional to its increase in cost.     

You are what you eat

There’s a sucker born every minute. But that constantly increasing supply isn’t diminishing the value of Swiss chocolatier Delafée's gourmet lollipops. (Here they are.) This "suggestive confection" is a 33.00 euro heart-shaped sucker dusted with edible gold. If you are struggling to think who might benefit most from this undeniably essential gift, the product description is fortunately explicit: it’s for “the princess who has everything.” If she is an actual princess, however, keep her away from the lollipaparazzi...

If you're worried about eating gold, don't be. Edible gold leaf is a mainstay of the Intentionally Decadent Ingestibles Of Totally Inappropriate Cost scene. Since 24k gold is chemically inert, you can eat as much as you can afford. (Yes, you can finally perform your one act play about King Midas struggling to eat his dinner.) Incidentally, edible gold leaf costs $120-$160/ gram. Considering the minimal weight of the lollipop’s included shavings, this confection is not, as you might have guessed, worth its weight in gold. You’ll be glad to know that the chocolatier who makes the pops also offers a gilding service, so you could actually coat your money in gold, too, before you throw it away.

Cost: about 46 USD.

Envy from your friends about your savvy purchase: priceless. You can’t put a price on lollipopularity.

Is it worth the money? No. You’re paying a lot for labor. You’re better off taking a cheese grater to some edible gold leaf and doctoring your own Yummy Earth lollipop. (Available at your local Foods For Living!)

When the going gets truff...

What does the Mafia have in common with Chinese farmers and climate change? While a full list of similarities would be too large to print, obviously, I refer to the threat they pose to the the French black truffle trade.

Climate change—or, to be apolitical about it, “a change in climate”— has resulted in some serious truffle reduction (truction). Before WWI, French soil was producing about 2,000 tons of truffles. These days, the yield is about 30 tons.

This scarcity has driven truffle prices and demand high enough for organized crime to take an interest. Even more valuable than the truffles themselves are the dogs that sniff them out. As a result, restaraunts and truffle hunters have had to employ security measures normally reserved for diamond couriers.

If that weren’t enough, China, a hotbed of comparatively tasteless truffles, has begun exporting about 28 tons of their rubbery dopplegangers per year. The truffles are greatly lacking in smell and taste, so identifying them shouldn’t be a problem. But enterprising (and dishonest) truffle traders (more like “traitors,” am I right?) are mixing in the Chinese truffles with the French and selling them in bulk. Truffle factories must now employ painstaking scrutiny to ensure that their customers are indeed receiving France’s famous culinary export. The corruption goes deep: some French companies sell Chinese truffles, which cost about $20/pound, and market them—legally—as French truffles, since they are packaged in France. Want to feel tuber-duper about your purchase? The package should be forthcoming if it’s a legitimate product. The French black truffle will also answer to Tuber melanosporum, while its Chinese counterpart goes by Tuber indicum. The party-ruiner in me must point out that a progressive invasion of plantation soil by Chinese truffle spores may just eradicate this distinction over time. Italy has already banned the importation of Chinese truffles, and many in France are advocating the same.

Let’s just hope the French truffle industry’s international mascot, Trufflupicus, stays healthy, because we need him now more than ever.

Cost: About $1600/pound.

Cost of a truffle hog: Seriously, no one uses pigs anymore. Nice try. These days, though, the truffle hound scene is “exploding.”

Are they worth the money? Well, you can walk into a locker room and get half the truffle experience for free. (Don’t just walk into a locker room, though.) But for a few shavings, sure. Places that serve genuine truffles are expensive, so you’ll probably go there for a special event or evening with someone you care about, and the whole endeavor will seem like a grand time because of your investment in it, and the truffle shavings will be delicious.

If you're short on cash, but have somehow developed a taste for top tier culinary finery, I'm going to let you in on something to fortify your income: according to Google, usually a destroyer of dreams, gold-dusted truffle lollipops are not yet a thing. But they could be...