Gwyneth Paltrow has made a name for herself as le foodie du jour recently, nabbing the cover of Bon Appétit, feasting at Tertulia with Jay-Z, and touring the gastronomic highlights of Spain with her buddy Mario Batali.
The hub of her food-driven cult of personality is Goop, a lifestyle website where she dishes out recipes, restaurant recommendations, and other tips on how to be more like Gwyn. This week, she and her team have gone and “gooped Brooklyn,” which seems to mean reading a few trend stories about the borough from the last five years and rehashing them in the most asinine way possible.
Could this officially be one of the worst things ever written about Brooklyn? Let’s take a closer look at some of the entries:
We’re glad to see that Brooklyn, as a collective borough, has nailed cool-kid drinking. They must be proud of themselves! This commentary makes Brooklyn sound like one big hipster bar that just happens to be called “Brooklyn.” Who is “they”? What the hell are you talking about?
Welcome to “adventures in buzzword food writing”—you must be gunning for a James Beard Award, huh girl? On the real, we also love food that is “ingredient-driven,” just like we love computers that are technology-driven and sports teams that are athlete-driven.
As Grubstreet points out, calling the Prohibition era casual and elegant may be just a wee bit Hollywood.
Translation: “It’s worth a few extra minutes in my tinted vehicle, and the fact that when I get there I have to hold my nose to slide past a bunch of hipsters en route to my private table.” Seriously, if you ever see Gwyneth Paltrow on the L train, please inform us immediately so that we can be 100% sure that the world has officially gone fucking crazy.
Thank you for telling us about this “serious foodie experience,” with zero information about why it’s good. We’ll just take your word that it’s cool and sleek enough to cost as much as a new iPhone.
Can you customize the ice-cream cakes with grammatically incorrect hogwash? Because that would be sweet.
The phrase “made by a proper vested and bearded mixologist” makes it sound like these dudes—and they must be dudes, because it’s not like a bar owned by the doyenne of female bartending would ever have any women behind the bar—came straight out of central casting. Also, what the hell does “day-of-yore” mean? That the bar evokes March 14, 1926, precisely?