Or is it them? Anyway, we know that le fin de siècle is upon us, if eleven years late, when we read stories like this:
Mr. Batali, the celebrity chef famed for his orange Crocs, red pony tail and bold ragus, has long been one of the premier restaurateurs to the New York financial elite. Morgan Stanley, Goldman Sachs, Credit Suisse and other finance giants hold events at his restaurants in downtown Manhattan. Bankers often fill the coveted tables at Babbo and Del Posto, where the seven-course “tradizionale” menu goes for $145 and features dishes like Apician Spiced Ostrich with Date Conserva, Lovage and Barley Crisps. Customers frequently book a month in advance for a table at Babbo.
Now, however, those bankers may be buying their truffles elsewhere.
You see, Mr. Batali bit the hand that feeds him (or perhaps, the hand he feeds):
News of the comments, earlier reported by Forbes, quickly lit up the trading terminals on Wall Street and momentarily overshadowed talk of Italian bond spreads. Coming amid the Occupy Wall Street protests and war on the 1%, many bankers said the tirade from one of their favorite chefs was a step too far. Two bankers interviewed Wednesday said they canceled reservations at Batali establishments and several said they would never book a Batali table again.
“What an insult!” one trader blast-emailed to colleagues. “I must have spent more than $5,000 on his stupid black truffles over the years, and now he says I’m Hitler?!”
Added another senior banker: “I don’t intend to go to his restaurants for some time. It is a crazy thing to say and it could actually kill off his business.”
So we have a celebrity chef who makes his living selling overpriced food to predatory and parasitical assholes, along with really rich guys whose feelings are hurt (not very Galtian, is it?).
I say, raise the capital gains tax and let God sort ’em out.
And for those keeping score at home, this is not envy, it’s contempt.
Time for some pan-seared Synanceia.