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Boston Social Media Marketing Company



Social media marketing and management company located in Boston, MA
Nationwide local marketing services offer complete social media management with reputation monitoring or manage your own social media with our powerful social media software.
Run ads, sweepstakes, discounts and deals while capturing emails and more.
Visit www.Tactical-Moves.com and get more details at www.TacticalMovesMedia.com

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Food that looks good enough to… Instagram


On the website for Temper, chef Neil Rankin’s loud and smoky barbecue restaurant in Soho, are lots of hashtags and emojis: “#moneyshot” and “#banging” caption a picture of their glistening Sunday roast beef, along with the heart-eyes emoji. “Wood, smoke, fire, meat. We got it all,” they purr. “#hotstuff #werereadyforyou.”

Ready to both give you Damascene moments with charred meats and for you to hashtag your experience and induce other people to go there. And what’s wrong with that?

We use Instagram now to plan where we’re going to eat next and what we’re going to eat when we get there. There’s still cynicism about this, but it’s marketing gold dust. With such a shift in how we navigate our appetites, you wonder: would any chef admit to creating food specifically for Instagram?

Rankin wouldn’t. “Instagram is a great way of publicising your business, but I’ve never intentionally made food for it. Most of my food is pretty basic in terms of presentation. You’re probably doing something wrong if you’re relying on Instagram to fill your restaurant.” He’d prefer to attract attention with the “quality” of his flavours rather than the photogenic appeal of “some tarted up iconic dish that fails to deliver”.

James Lowe, head chef and owner of Lyle’s in east London – a restaurant known for its simple, elegant presentation – offers equally unminced words. “Do I create dishes specifically for Instagram? No. Am I aware of what people tend to ’gram? Yes. Do we use that knowledge to create something more ’grammable? No. I know places that have a great feed, but the food is rubbish. I call it ‘cooking for pictures’.”

Lowe stresses “the most important thing for any dish is how it tastes”, but in some cultures looks are incredibly important. Across the Far East, even the presentation of street food can be a high priority. The photogenic nature of something like bao – steamed buns found in many Chinese cuisines – is incidental. However, when the Taiwanese street-food outfit Bao found a bricks and mortar home in 2015, a permanent queue formed once people started ’gramming one dish: the fried chicken gua bao. Queues remain because people return for more.

Looks and taste colliding in this way was a happy accident for Bao’s owners, and other small businesses who have found Instagram success with one iconic product. The novelty factor could wear off quickly if the pleasure of eating doesn’t match the pleasure of looking. But sometimes Instagram fame is unpredictable. Sometimes the pleasure comes not from the beauty of a perfectly precise colour palette, but instead in seeing something so squidgy and bulbous it makes you laugh, like the doughnuts from Bread Ahead, a bakery stall in London’s Borough Market, which are now both the business’s main selling point and something for which people pilgrimage from afar, all due to Instagram.

What if you’re a food business and don’t want to wait for your happy accident, though? Can you get ’gram notoriety with a dish that prioritises beauty over taste?

It appears so. Last year, New Yorkers started ’gramming a see-through dessert that looked like a breast implant. The “raindrop cake”, created by Darren Wong and sold at the Smorgasburg food market in Brooklyn, prompted headlines such as “This Dessert Looks Just Like a Blob of Water and I Can’t Look Away”, but “tasteless” was a common review. At $8 (£6.90) it seemed, in more ways than one, a bit of a transparent gimmick. And now it’s coming to the UK.

Bangkok restaurateur Fah Sundravorakul is putting it on the menu at the London ramen pop-up Yamagoya next month. I was invited to try one. God, but it looks stunning – like some sort of deep sea creature; gently trembling beside crushed peanut powder and brown-sugar syrup. Piercing it feels monstrous. Taste wise, it’s… well, it’s sweet, cold gloop that liquefies in the warmth of your mouth – quite exciting, but only the subtlest of flavours come from the powder and syrup. It’s too weird to be a gustatory joy, but I immediately take a picture and wonder when I’ll be able to post it. Is this the point?

The ‘raindrop cake’.


Jelly beautiful: the ‘raindrop cake’. Photograph: Pål Hansen for the Observer

Sundravorakul prefers to give some context on the dish first. “It’s not from Brooklyn,” he says. “It has been very popular in Japan for a few years.” The “cake” is a mizu shingen mochi, or water mochi – a jelly-like dish made from water sourced in the southern Japanese Alps, which Sundravorakul has shipped over. The Japanese “enjoy the cool texture” and the “challenge to your senses”. That it loses its agar-set form after 30 minutes makes it an ephemeral experience – much like Instagram. Sundravorakul won’t directly admit he’s bringing the dish here for ’gram potential, but will say: “We are aware of how powerful social media is.” We stare at the cake, now melting, for some time.

Lowe believes that creating a dish specifically for Instagram is “dishonest”. It’s hard to disagree. If you’re paying for something that looks magical but tastes like a trick, something is wrong. Or is it? Critics wonder what’s being lost as food becomes social currency for the digital age, but if it’s a luxury people can still afford, can we really make critical judgments about the ways in which it provides them with fleeting pleasures? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to choose which filter to use: Lark or Lo-Fi.



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Food that looks good enough to… Instagram


On the website for Temper, chef Neil Rankin’s loud and smoky barbecue restaurant in Soho, are lots of hashtags and emojis: “#moneyshot” and “#banging” caption a picture of their glistening Sunday roast beef, along with the heart-eyes emoji. “Wood, smoke, fire, meat. We got it all,” they purr. “#hotstuff #werereadyforyou.”

Ready to both give you Damascene moments with charred meats and for you to hashtag your experience and induce other people to go there. And what’s wrong with that?

We use Instagram now to plan where we’re going to eat next and what we’re going to eat when we get there. There’s still cynicism about this, but it’s marketing gold dust. With such a shift in how we navigate our appetites, you wonder: would any chef admit to creating food specifically for Instagram?

Rankin wouldn’t. “Instagram is a great way of publicising your business, but I’ve never intentionally made food for it. Most of my food is pretty basic in terms of presentation. You’re probably doing something wrong if you’re relying on Instagram to fill your restaurant.” He’d prefer to attract attention with the “quality” of his flavours rather than the photogenic appeal of “some tarted up iconic dish that fails to deliver”.

James Lowe, head chef and owner of Lyle’s in east London – a restaurant known for its simple, elegant presentation – offers equally unminced words. “Do I create dishes specifically for Instagram? No. Am I aware of what people tend to ’gram? Yes. Do we use that knowledge to create something more ’grammable? No. I know places that have a great feed, but the food is rubbish. I call it ‘cooking for pictures’.”

Lowe stresses “the most important thing for any dish is how it tastes”, but in some cultures looks are incredibly important. Across the Far East, even the presentation of street food can be a high priority. The photogenic nature of something like bao – steamed buns found in many Chinese cuisines – is incidental. However, when the Taiwanese street-food outfit Bao found a bricks and mortar home in 2015, a permanent queue formed once people started ’gramming one dish: the fried chicken gua bao. Queues remain because people return for more.

Looks and taste colliding in this way was a happy accident for Bao’s owners, and other small businesses who have found Instagram success with one iconic product. The novelty factor could wear off quickly if the pleasure of eating doesn’t match the pleasure of looking. But sometimes Instagram fame is unpredictable. Sometimes the pleasure comes not from the beauty of a perfectly precise colour palette, but instead in seeing something so squidgy and bulbous it makes you laugh, like the doughnuts from Bread Ahead, a bakery stall in London’s Borough Market, which are now both the business’s main selling point and something for which people pilgrimage from afar, all due to Instagram.

What if you’re a food business and don’t want to wait for your happy accident, though? Can you get ’gram notoriety with a dish that prioritises beauty over taste?

It appears so. Last year, New Yorkers started ’gramming a see-through dessert that looked like a breast implant. The “raindrop cake”, created by Darren Wong and sold at the Smorgasburg food market in Brooklyn, prompted headlines such as “This Dessert Looks Just Like a Blob of Water and I Can’t Look Away”, but “tasteless” was a common review. At $8 (£6.90) it seemed, in more ways than one, a bit of a transparent gimmick. And now it’s coming to the UK.

Bangkok restaurateur Fah Sundravorakul is putting it on the menu at the London ramen pop-up Yamagoya next month. I was invited to try one. God, but it looks stunning – like some sort of deep sea creature; gently trembling beside crushed peanut powder and brown-sugar syrup. Piercing it feels monstrous. Taste wise, it’s… well, it’s sweet, cold gloop that liquefies in the warmth of your mouth – quite exciting, but only the subtlest of flavours come from the powder and syrup. It’s too weird to be a gustatory joy, but I immediately take a picture and wonder when I’ll be able to post it. Is this the point?

The ‘raindrop cake’.


Jelly beautiful: the ‘raindrop cake’. Photograph: Pål Hansen for the Observer

Sundravorakul prefers to give some context on the dish first. “It’s not from Brooklyn,” he says. “It has been very popular in Japan for a few years.” The “cake” is a mizu shingen mochi, or water mochi – a jelly-like dish made from water sourced in the southern Japanese Alps, which Sundravorakul has shipped over. The Japanese “enjoy the cool texture” and the “challenge to your senses”. That it loses its agar-set form after 30 minutes makes it an ephemeral experience – much like Instagram. Sundravorakul won’t directly admit he’s bringing the dish here for ’gram potential, but will say: “We are aware of how powerful social media is.” We stare at the cake, now melting, for some time.

Lowe believes that creating a dish specifically for Instagram is “dishonest”. It’s hard to disagree. If you’re paying for something that looks magical but tastes like a trick, something is wrong. Or is it? Critics wonder what’s being lost as food becomes social currency for the digital age, but if it’s a luxury people can still afford, can we really make critical judgments about the ways in which it provides them with fleeting pleasures? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to choose which filter to use: Lark or Lo-Fi.



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Social Media Marketing Companies | Social Media Marketing Services



Social Media Marketing Companies | Social Media Marketing Services
call Social Media Marketing Resources at 757-839-3147

Social media channels such as Facebook and Twitter are powerful marketing platforms that allow a more personal interaction between businesses and their followers, generating brand loyalty and awareness more quickly than traditional channels. Your target market uses social media every single day. If you want to stay top of mind, it’s critically important to not only be active with the social media channels that make sense for your company, but also to have a solid strategy for building those channels.

R2R Marketing will create and manage your social media accounts with strategic and informative posts for your company on sites including Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Houzz, Pinterest, and more. No two companies are the same, so we’ll build a strategy that places your company on the social networks that make sense, and follow up with regular postings and interaction to grow your numbers and your customer loyalty.

The benefit of having the R2R team specialist managing the social media channels for your business is to:

Establish Credibility

Nowadays, customers are looking at companies’ Facebook pages in the searching process. An inactive, uninformative Facebook page, or even worse, no presence at all, can be a huge turnoff.
Build Relationships

Social Media is all about showing the more personal, outgoing side of your company to the world, allowing you to connect with existing customers and engage new ones.
Listen to Feedback :Social Media Marketing Resources

People love to share their opinions, especially on social networks where all it takes is the click of a button. This provides a valuable gateway for feedback that you can use in your marketing and business efforts.
Enhance Customer Relations

People are more likely to trust in a company that regularly engages their followers, makes meaningful and fun posts, and seeks to educate them.
Generate Awareness
Social Media Marketing Companies | Social Media Marketing Services
Having a well-rounded Social Media presence not only helps with your search engine optimization efforts, but also allows you to share your messages, offers, and news to potentially thousands of people instantly.
Protect Your Reputation

Receiving feedback and engagement from your followers, either good or bad, gives you the opportunity to show off your company’s strengths.

Let the professionals get social on your behalf! “Like us” or call us today at 1-757-839-3147

Get Started

Social Media Marketing Companies | Social Media Marketing Services

Social Media Marketing Companies | Social Media Marketing Services

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Food that looks good enough to… Instagram


On the website for Temper, chef Neil Rankin’s loud and smoky barbecue restaurant in Soho, are lots of hashtags and emojis: “#moneyshot” and “#banging” caption a picture of their glistening Sunday roast beef, along with the heart-eyes emoji. “Wood, smoke, fire, meat. We got it all,” they purr. “#hotstuff #werereadyforyou.”

Ready to both give you Damascene moments with charred meats and for you to hashtag your experience and induce other people to go there. And what’s wrong with that?

We use Instagram now to plan where we’re going to eat next and what we’re going to eat when we get there. There’s still cynicism about this, but it’s marketing gold dust. With such a shift in how we navigate our appetites, you wonder: would any chef admit to creating food specifically for Instagram?

Rankin wouldn’t. “Instagram is a great way of publicising your business, but I’ve never intentionally made food for it. Most of my food is pretty basic in terms of presentation. You’re probably doing something wrong if you’re relying on Instagram to fill your restaurant.” He’d prefer to attract attention with the “quality” of his flavours rather than the photogenic appeal of “some tarted up iconic dish that fails to deliver”.

James Lowe, head chef and owner of Lyle’s in east London – a restaurant known for its simple, elegant presentation – offers equally unminced words. “Do I create dishes specifically for Instagram? No. Am I aware of what people tend to ’gram? Yes. Do we use that knowledge to create something more ’grammable? No. I know places that have a great feed, but the food is rubbish. I call it ‘cooking for pictures’.”

Lowe stresses “the most important thing for any dish is how it tastes”, but in some cultures looks are incredibly important. Across the Far East, even the presentation of street food can be a high priority. The photogenic nature of something like bao – steamed buns found in many Chinese cuisines – is incidental. However, when the Taiwanese street-food outfit Bao found a bricks and mortar home in 2015, a permanent queue formed once people started ’gramming one dish: the fried chicken gua bao. Queues remain because people return for more.

Looks and taste colliding in this way was a happy accident for Bao’s owners, and other small businesses who have found Instagram success with one iconic product. The novelty factor could wear off quickly if the pleasure of eating doesn’t match the pleasure of looking. But sometimes Instagram fame is unpredictable. Sometimes the pleasure comes not from the beauty of a perfectly precise colour palette, but instead in seeing something so squidgy and bulbous it makes you laugh, like the doughnuts from Bread Ahead, a bakery stall in London’s Borough Market, which are now both the business’s main selling point and something for which people pilgrimage from afar, all due to Instagram.

What if you’re a food business and don’t want to wait for your happy accident, though? Can you get ’gram notoriety with a dish that prioritises beauty over taste?

It appears so. Last year, New Yorkers started ’gramming a see-through dessert that looked like a breast implant. The “raindrop cake”, created by Darren Wong and sold at the Smorgasburg food market in Brooklyn, prompted headlines such as “This Dessert Looks Just Like a Blob of Water and I Can’t Look Away”, but “tasteless” was a common review. At $8 (£6.90) it seemed, in more ways than one, a bit of a transparent gimmick. And now it’s coming to the UK.

Bangkok restaurateur Fah Sundravorakul is putting it on the menu at the London ramen pop-up Yamagoya next month. I was invited to try one. God, but it looks stunning – like some sort of deep sea creature; gently trembling beside crushed peanut powder and brown-sugar syrup. Piercing it feels monstrous. Taste wise, it’s… well, it’s sweet, cold gloop that liquefies in the warmth of your mouth – quite exciting, but only the subtlest of flavours come from the powder and syrup. It’s too weird to be a gustatory joy, but I immediately take a picture and wonder when I’ll be able to post it. Is this the point?

The ‘raindrop cake’.


Jelly beautiful: the ‘raindrop cake’. Photograph: Pål Hansen for the Observer

Sundravorakul prefers to give some context on the dish first. “It’s not from Brooklyn,” he says. “It has been very popular in Japan for a few years.” The “cake” is a mizu shingen mochi, or water mochi – a jelly-like dish made from water sourced in the southern Japanese Alps, which Sundravorakul has shipped over. The Japanese “enjoy the cool texture” and the “challenge to your senses”. That it loses its agar-set form after 30 minutes makes it an ephemeral experience – much like Instagram. Sundravorakul won’t directly admit he’s bringing the dish here for ’gram potential, but will say: “We are aware of how powerful social media is.” We stare at the cake, now melting, for some time.

Lowe believes that creating a dish specifically for Instagram is “dishonest”. It’s hard to disagree. If you’re paying for something that looks magical but tastes like a trick, something is wrong. Or is it? Critics wonder what’s being lost as food becomes social currency for the digital age, but if it’s a luxury people can still afford, can we really make critical judgments about the ways in which it provides them with fleeting pleasures? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to choose which filter to use: Lark or Lo-Fi.



Source link

Food that looks good enough to… Instagram


On the website for Temper, chef Neil Rankin’s loud and smoky barbecue restaurant in Soho, are lots of hashtags and emojis: “#moneyshot” and “#banging” caption a picture of their glistening Sunday roast beef, along with the heart-eyes emoji. “Wood, smoke, fire, meat. We got it all,” they purr. “#hotstuff #werereadyforyou.”

Ready to both give you Damascene moments with charred meats and for you to hashtag your experience and induce other people to go there. And what’s wrong with that?

We use Instagram now to plan where we’re going to eat next and what we’re going to eat when we get there. There’s still cynicism about this, but it’s marketing gold dust. With such a shift in how we navigate our appetites, you wonder: would any chef admit to creating food specifically for Instagram?

Rankin wouldn’t. “Instagram is a great way of publicising your business, but I’ve never intentionally made food for it. Most of my food is pretty basic in terms of presentation. You’re probably doing something wrong if you’re relying on Instagram to fill your restaurant.” He’d prefer to attract attention with the “quality” of his flavours rather than the photogenic appeal of “some tarted up iconic dish that fails to deliver”.

James Lowe, head chef and owner of Lyle’s in east London – a restaurant known for its simple, elegant presentation – offers equally unminced words. “Do I create dishes specifically for Instagram? No. Am I aware of what people tend to ’gram? Yes. Do we use that knowledge to create something more ’grammable? No. I know places that have a great feed, but the food is rubbish. I call it ‘cooking for pictures’.”

Lowe stresses “the most important thing for any dish is how it tastes”, but in some cultures looks are incredibly important. Across the Far East, even the presentation of street food can be a high priority. The photogenic nature of something like bao – steamed buns found in many Chinese cuisines – is incidental. However, when the Taiwanese street-food outfit Bao found a bricks and mortar home in 2015, a permanent queue formed once people started ’gramming one dish: the fried chicken gua bao. Queues remain because people return for more.

Looks and taste colliding in this way was a happy accident for Bao’s owners, and other small businesses who have found Instagram success with one iconic product. The novelty factor could wear off quickly if the pleasure of eating doesn’t match the pleasure of looking. But sometimes Instagram fame is unpredictable. Sometimes the pleasure comes not from the beauty of a perfectly precise colour palette, but instead in seeing something so squidgy and bulbous it makes you laugh, like the doughnuts from Bread Ahead, a bakery stall in London’s Borough Market, which are now both the business’s main selling point and something for which people pilgrimage from afar, all due to Instagram.

What if you’re a food business and don’t want to wait for your happy accident, though? Can you get ’gram notoriety with a dish that prioritises beauty over taste?

It appears so. Last year, New Yorkers started ’gramming a see-through dessert that looked like a breast implant. The “raindrop cake”, created by Darren Wong and sold at the Smorgasburg food market in Brooklyn, prompted headlines such as “This Dessert Looks Just Like a Blob of Water and I Can’t Look Away”, but “tasteless” was a common review. At $8 (£6.90) it seemed, in more ways than one, a bit of a transparent gimmick. And now it’s coming to the UK.

Bangkok restaurateur Fah Sundravorakul is putting it on the menu at the London ramen pop-up Yamagoya next month. I was invited to try one. God, but it looks stunning – like some sort of deep sea creature; gently trembling beside crushed peanut powder and brown-sugar syrup. Piercing it feels monstrous. Taste wise, it’s… well, it’s sweet, cold gloop that liquefies in the warmth of your mouth – quite exciting, but only the subtlest of flavours come from the powder and syrup. It’s too weird to be a gustatory joy, but I immediately take a picture and wonder when I’ll be able to post it. Is this the point?

The ‘raindrop cake’.


Jelly beautiful: the ‘raindrop cake’. Photograph: Pål Hansen for the Observer

Sundravorakul prefers to give some context on the dish first. “It’s not from Brooklyn,” he says. “It has been very popular in Japan for a few years.” The “cake” is a mizu shingen mochi, or water mochi – a jelly-like dish made from water sourced in the southern Japanese Alps, which Sundravorakul has shipped over. The Japanese “enjoy the cool texture” and the “challenge to your senses”. That it loses its agar-set form after 30 minutes makes it an ephemeral experience – much like Instagram. Sundravorakul won’t directly admit he’s bringing the dish here for ’gram potential, but will say: “We are aware of how powerful social media is.” We stare at the cake, now melting, for some time.

Lowe believes that creating a dish specifically for Instagram is “dishonest”. It’s hard to disagree. If you’re paying for something that looks magical but tastes like a trick, something is wrong. Or is it? Critics wonder what’s being lost as food becomes social currency for the digital age, but if it’s a luxury people can still afford, can we really make critical judgments about the ways in which it provides them with fleeting pleasures? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to choose which filter to use: Lark or Lo-Fi.



Source link

Food that looks good enough to… Instagram


On the website for Temper, chef Neil Rankin’s loud and smoky barbecue restaurant in Soho, are lots of hashtags and emojis: “#moneyshot” and “#banging” caption a picture of their glistening Sunday roast beef, along with the heart-eyes emoji. “Wood, smoke, fire, meat. We got it all,” they purr. “#hotstuff #werereadyforyou.”

Ready to both give you Damascene moments with charred meats and for you to hashtag your experience and induce other people to go there. And what’s wrong with that?

We use Instagram now to plan where we’re going to eat next and what we’re going to eat when we get there. There’s still cynicism about this, but it’s marketing gold dust. With such a shift in how we navigate our appetites, you wonder: would any chef admit to creating food specifically for Instagram?

Rankin wouldn’t. “Instagram is a great way of publicising your business, but I’ve never intentionally made food for it. Most of my food is pretty basic in terms of presentation. You’re probably doing something wrong if you’re relying on Instagram to fill your restaurant.” He’d prefer to attract attention with the “quality” of his flavours rather than the photogenic appeal of “some tarted up iconic dish that fails to deliver”.

James Lowe, head chef and owner of Lyle’s in east London – a restaurant known for its simple, elegant presentation – offers equally unminced words. “Do I create dishes specifically for Instagram? No. Am I aware of what people tend to ’gram? Yes. Do we use that knowledge to create something more ’grammable? No. I know places that have a great feed, but the food is rubbish. I call it ‘cooking for pictures’.”

Lowe stresses “the most important thing for any dish is how it tastes”, but in some cultures looks are incredibly important. Across the Far East, even the presentation of street food can be a high priority. The photogenic nature of something like bao – steamed buns found in many Chinese cuisines – is incidental. However, when the Taiwanese street-food outfit Bao found a bricks and mortar home in 2015, a permanent queue formed once people started ’gramming one dish: the fried chicken gua bao. Queues remain because people return for more.

Looks and taste colliding in this way was a happy accident for Bao’s owners, and other small businesses who have found Instagram success with one iconic product. The novelty factor could wear off quickly if the pleasure of eating doesn’t match the pleasure of looking. But sometimes Instagram fame is unpredictable. Sometimes the pleasure comes not from the beauty of a perfectly precise colour palette, but instead in seeing something so squidgy and bulbous it makes you laugh, like the doughnuts from Bread Ahead, a bakery stall in London’s Borough Market, which are now both the business’s main selling point and something for which people pilgrimage from afar, all due to Instagram.

What if you’re a food business and don’t want to wait for your happy accident, though? Can you get ’gram notoriety with a dish that prioritises beauty over taste?

It appears so. Last year, New Yorkers started ’gramming a see-through dessert that looked like a breast implant. The “raindrop cake”, created by Darren Wong and sold at the Smorgasburg food market in Brooklyn, prompted headlines such as “This Dessert Looks Just Like a Blob of Water and I Can’t Look Away”, but “tasteless” was a common review. At $8 (£6.90) it seemed, in more ways than one, a bit of a transparent gimmick. And now it’s coming to the UK.

Bangkok restaurateur Fah Sundravorakul is putting it on the menu at the London ramen pop-up Yamagoya next month. I was invited to try one. God, but it looks stunning – like some sort of deep sea creature; gently trembling beside crushed peanut powder and brown-sugar syrup. Piercing it feels monstrous. Taste wise, it’s… well, it’s sweet, cold gloop that liquefies in the warmth of your mouth – quite exciting, but only the subtlest of flavours come from the powder and syrup. It’s too weird to be a gustatory joy, but I immediately take a picture and wonder when I’ll be able to post it. Is this the point?

The ‘raindrop cake’.


Jelly beautiful: the ‘raindrop cake’. Photograph: Pål Hansen for the Observer

Sundravorakul prefers to give some context on the dish first. “It’s not from Brooklyn,” he says. “It has been very popular in Japan for a few years.” The “cake” is a mizu shingen mochi, or water mochi – a jelly-like dish made from water sourced in the southern Japanese Alps, which Sundravorakul has shipped over. The Japanese “enjoy the cool texture” and the “challenge to your senses”. That it loses its agar-set form after 30 minutes makes it an ephemeral experience – much like Instagram. Sundravorakul won’t directly admit he’s bringing the dish here for ’gram potential, but will say: “We are aware of how powerful social media is.” We stare at the cake, now melting, for some time.

Lowe believes that creating a dish specifically for Instagram is “dishonest”. It’s hard to disagree. If you’re paying for something that looks magical but tastes like a trick, something is wrong. Or is it? Critics wonder what’s being lost as food becomes social currency for the digital age, but if it’s a luxury people can still afford, can we really make critical judgments about the ways in which it provides them with fleeting pleasures? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to choose which filter to use: Lark or Lo-Fi.



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