Why Should I Believe You?

You tell us where to eat, what you like, which dish was best, based on what? Nothing, is what. Your main qualification is “I like food”. So does everyone else!

I counted how many food ‘influencers’ I follow on Instagram: less than 20. Fewer than 10 of them post their own cooking, and regretfully, fewer than 5 do it well. The rest of them eat at various restaurants in their cities, tell us which were good (suspiciously, never which ones were bad), and we all follow along. I, too many times, have fallen victim to the phrase ‘you have to try X, Y, or Z’ yelled over an overstimulating 30-second video of a poorly constructed sandwich.

Allow me to explain: when I use the term ‘influencer’ I don’t just mean people with tens of thousands of followers. I’m including the small pages, the in-betweeners who don’t get huge exposure but land the occasional brand deal or invite. Many prefer to call themselves food bloggers, but for the sake of clarity I’m grouping them all together.

Using the same tired language gets you nowhere, or at least I thought so. All I read these days is “you CANNOT miss this”, and “an ABSOLUTE must try”, under a photo of some very cheesy bread. Please, for the love of god, tell me why this is a must try. There has to be something else going on here, or else why would I listen to you and travel 45 minutes on the bus to try some cheesy bread?

I’ll tell you why I’m keeping on about this cheesy bread. You may have come across the viral (I use this word loosely) cheese coin: essentially cheese-filled waffle batter imprinted into a coin shape. A big thing in Japan which popped up elsewhere in Asia in no time. I trundled through one of the busiest parts of Hong Kong, sweating from every pore in the 35-degree heat, walking up and down the same street using only the (incorrect) address in the caption of an Instagram reel. I finally got my hands on the cheese coin knowing full well what I had gotten myself into. Still I clung onto a shred of hope but no, it was exactly what I expected. Underwhelming, and certainly not worth the hassle.

Say you visit the bagel place you’ve seen on your far too local feed and order the one you’ve had your eye on for weeks. By this point, you’ve convinced yourself it'll be worth it, the most delicious bagel you’ve tasted in your life. Later that evening in a moment of clarity, realise you spent £10 on a bagel. £10 on a dense, dry bagel with about enough filling to satisfy a rat . I’m all for a trend, but I’m not for a gimmick. And honestly, the few trends I have tried have been disappointing. Something else I am not for is believing someone when they tell me I should eat something “because it's good”. Why should I believe you?

I might sound bitter. Whether I am or not is none of your business. But I can’t quite wrap my head around why we’re so ready to hand over our time, money, and trust to people who can’t prove they deserve it. It’s one thing following someone who tells you to buy the latest skincare because of course, ‘this one is far better than the last’. But it’s another to allow someone with no real experience to dictate where we spend our precious free time, not to mention our hard-earned cash. Both of which a lot of us are running short on.

There are exceptions. Some influencers don’t cook themselves nor are they any sort of formally qualified critic, but through experimentation, they gain that unofficial qualification. There’s Mark Weins, who makes the best binge-worthy food videos, eating in places he might have never come across without the guidance of a local. He goes into every venture with zero assumptions, which means you’re getting a raw opinion of every dish and restaurant he experiences. Blondie in China is another- she calls herself a ‘professional tourist’ but really, she’s an expert in making the unfamiliar approachable. There are others who use their platforms to highlight the people who do know their stuff. They speak to chefs, staff, recipe developers, people who have proven their expertise time and time again. One of my favourites is Fork Lore, the face of which is Simon Wilson. Wilson actually does know what he’s talking about, but he uses Fork Lore to spotlight the deserving chefs in Hong Kong, recently extending it to the rest of Asia. There are countless others doing similar work, giving attention to food that isn’t trendy, isn’t listed in a guidebook, and isn’t going to come by any sort of paid promotion.

Thank god for #ad. At least now we know who might be telling little white lies for a free dinner.

The Godforsaken Cheese Coin