TASTE OF DYSPEPSIA

6/22/11

Ah, the joys of Taste of Chicago! Searing heat, oppressive humidity, scores of thousands packed into a space intended for use by hundreds, fellow patrons whose most salient trait is their casual attitude toward personal hygiene, bite-size portions at three times normal portion prices on top of the additional charge for the wonderment of the experience, the death of place to sit to enjoy one’s meal, the pleasant bouquet of the port-a-potties, being served by people who use those same port-a-potties and avail themselves of the on-again, off-again availability of soap and toilet paper that such comfort stations feature, fellow taste customers emptying themselves, one way or the other, of the results of their over-indulgence, the cost of parking downtown in the wake of Mayor Daley’s brilliantly executed parking meter privatization, and, of course, the music that, if played anywhere in proximity to yours truly’s home would induce a call to the local police, demanding that they address the ear-splitting and nausea inducing public nuisance that is such live, big name entertainment.

Why on earth does a sane person subject himself or herself to such abuse? Of course, one can understand the attraction of such a debauch for young men and women trawling for members of the opposite sex, or the same sex, depending on their orientations. Most young men on the prowl, for instance, would attend, say, a human dung hurling exhibition if they thought that there was a reasonable chance that they could enjoy the company of nubile young women at such an event. And, yes, that example was chosen for its many similarities to Taste of Chicago.

But what about those of us who use their brains, rather than their hormones, when choosing an entertainment venue? Why on earth would such a person be attracted to an event featuring outrageous value parameters, boorish, odiferous crowds, dystopic weather conditions, and barbarian like dining accommodations? Why not, if one likes the food at a particular Taste vendor, visit the restaurant at which that vendor does business, where one can enjoy one’s meal at a more reasonable price while seated at a table with easy access to a working and clean bathroom while actually being served food and drink by an attentive wait staff?

After considering this question for years, I think I have come up with the answer as to why people expose themselves to the abuse that is Taste of Chicago. Many Taste attendees like the food that they can sort of obtain at this yearly celebration of squalor and misery but would never in a million years venture into the neighborhoods in which the vendors’ physical restaurants are located. The Taste of Chicago thus provides not only a (very small) sampling of the cuisine available in our city, but also feeds the faux hip urbanite image many suburbanites try desperately and clumsily to convey.

POST NOTE: Years ago, I used to enjoy Taste of Chicago. But first I and then, after initiating what has become a long and happy marriage, we lived downtown and could walk to the Taste of Chicago. We also had a lot more money, fewer things to spend it on, and a lot less discernment than we, or at least I (My wife, for some reason, would really like to go the Taste but somehow cannot persuade her husband to do so.) currently possess. But even back then, after about an hour or so of enduring the general depravity that attendance at the Taste entails, would urge my companions to join me in a ride to one of the restaurants featured at the Taste so that we could enjoy an actual meal in comfortable conditions while spending far less money.