Hello, it’s Amelia from Amelia Does Dinner.

So today, I want to get into a word that honestly gives me a bit of an ick. The word is foodie.

Now, I know at first it sounds harmless, even cute. Like, “Oh, I just really love food!” But if you’ve spent any time in the North American food scene, you know it’s become a whole personality type. There’s this curated, precious kind of performance – small plates, big prices, and everybody describing a salad like it’s “life changing”.

And then in Caribbean? Goodness. It’s the opposite problem.
Everybody’s a food expert. Even if they can’t boil water, they swear they know who makes the best doubles, how to eat roti properly, and how every restaurant should season their meat. Nobody can agree on anything, but everybody’s loud.

And somewhere in between those two worlds: North America’s quiet pretentiousness and the Caribbean’s passionate food quarrels, I started to really question what the word foodie even means.

Because I love food. I live and breathe food. But I don’t trust that label anymore. So let’s talk about it. What does being a foodie really mean? Why is it so tied up in ego and image? And how the heck did we even get here?

Stick around. This one’s been marinating for a while.

So what are the Qualifications to be a Foodie?

In Canada, being a foodie is often a performance of access. It’s about how many stars the place has.
Who’s willing to line up in the cold for three hours to say they were at that newest restaurant on opening night.
How much you can spend per plate. That becomes the currency of “taste.”
You’re not just eating food, you’re collecting bragging experiences. Status. Photos. And all of that ends up reflected in food reviews and influencer posts…but we’ll get to that in a minute.

Now Trinidad? Different energy, same mess.

In Trinidad, it’s less about what you’ve eaten and more about how loudly you can criticize someone else’s experience of it.

The people with the least experience in a particular cuisine? They’re somehow the most opinionated.
Half these baklava experts in Trinidad don’t even know the difference between Persian and Syrian baklava, but ask them and they’ll swear they grew up eating it. And then you have local food experts telling chefs how to cook pelau as if their version is law.

It’s absolutely insane.

Everyone wants to use their opinion as fact, and they say it loud enough that the whole population just accepts it. “This is the best bake and shark.” “That place gone down.” “That is not how we make it”

No room for nuance. No room for context. Just old noise.

And I say this as someone who loves food, talks about food, writes about food…
But at some point, I had to stop and ask: Are we celebrating food, or are we just shouting into the void to prove we’re right? Because if foodie status is based on who talks the most, or spends the most…
Then what is the point?

Why I don’t trust Food Reviews anymore

You know what phrase makes me instantly suspicious? “Best I ever had.”

Every time I hear that in a food review, especially in Canada…I pause. Because more often than not, it doesn’t mean the food was the best. It means the place was the hardest to get into. The exclusivity, the lineups, the whole “we’re booked out for the next year” vibe – it all creates this illusion of greatness. And now add that to the influencers. And I’m speaking from experience, as someone who’s worked with restaurants in multiple countries.

These reviews? Half the time they’re not reviews at all. They’re thank you notes for a free meal.

Here’s how it works: The influencer gets the VIP treatment, the prettiest looking plate, the best lighting by the window. Of course they’re going to say it’s “to die for!” They didn’t pay a cent.

And to be clear – this is not about bashing restaurants. They’re just trying to market their food and I don’t blame them for wanting exposure. The real issue is the people marketing the experience. The influencers who create hype, not honesty. Who treat food like content, not culture.

And here’s the kicker: in North America, businesses are finally catching on.
I’ve actually spoken to a few chefs and restaurant owners who straight up refuse to work with influencers now. They’re so tired of the fakery, the influencer “demands” and the lack of results. They want real people visiting their establishment because they love and appreciate food.

But unfortunately in Trinidad…We’re still miles behind.

Local Businesses feel pressured – as though they somehow have to work with these influencers just to stay relevant. Even when the person claiming to have a million followers, really bought 99% of them for $20US off some sketchy website. And I’m not exaggerating. I’ve actually seen it.
These so-called “food influencers” don’t actually influence anyone. No real engagement. No trust. No pull. It’s all fake. But they’re out here demanding free food and more, promising to shape public opinion… as though one video and a reel highlight is going to magically triple business sales overnight.

So yeah, I don’t trust food reviews, because I’ve seen what it’s all about.
The free meals, the fake numbers, the filters, the hype.
And somewhere in all of that noise, the actual food – the effort, the culture, the people behind the plate, gets lost.

I think if you really want to know if something’s good? Just eat it. Talk to the people who made it. Go to the restaurant more than once.
Because I think if you really love food, you’ll appreciate the effort, the craft, the culture, the individual style of the chef, and you’ll want to support their efforts genuinely, not just because you’re getting paid to do so, or because you’re receiving free food.

So…am I a Foodie?

So… I get labelled as a foodie. A lot. Yep, it happens. People hear me talk about food, they see the blog, the content, and they go, “Oh, you’re such a foodie!” And honestly? I don’t always know how to respond. Because if being a foodie means chasing trends, lining up for hype, or pretending to love something because it looks so pretty in a picture…I’m just not interested.

But if it means caring deeply about food…
If it means being curious about where it comes from, they history, how it’s made, who makes it.
If it means respecting food as something more than content – something cultural, emotional, and personal…

Then yeah. Maybe I am.

Because food, for me, isn’t about clout. It’s not about who posts first or who sounds the most sophisticated. It’s about the memories. The comfort. The effort that goes into feeding people well.
And for me, it’s about sitting with a plate of something – simple, rich, messy, and feeling …that feeling.

So if that’s being a foodie…then yeah, I’ll take the label.

But let’s not forget: the loudest people in the room aren’t always the ones who love food the most.
Sometimes, it’s the quiet plate that says the most.

Final Thoughts

So thank you for tuning in to hear my two cents on this topic.

Now I’m going to end with a saying from Trinidad that’s used to end stories. “Crik crack, monkey break he back for a piece of pommerac.”

And that’s all I have to say on that.