Many people expect me to be a food snob because I’m a food writer living in New York. 
 They expect me to be judgmental of their tastes, to sneer at chefs who don’t butcher their own hogs, to think carefully about whether to sprinkle grey salt from Brittany on my venison or to go instead with pink salt from Hawaii.
 There’s a reason for their expectations. Food snobbery has a long and storied history, and now that food is fashionable, it is considered acceptable in some ...

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