By Leigh O’Connor, Editor.
Every once in a while, as Editor, a book comes across your desk that you are both apprehensive and excited to read.
Ben Shrewy’s ‘Uses for Obsession’ is that book.
What does the title mean? Are there uses for obsession or how do you use your obsession? I’m not sure.
From a vitriolic and sarcastic view of Chef Hats, restaurant guides and food journalists to nostalgic memories of diving for paua with his Dad in the Naki (I too hail from this great part of Aotearoa), Attica mastermind Ben takes you on a roller coaster ride of a Chef’s life, dealing with awards and getting out of tricky situations.
Did you know he was almost hung by older students at a primary school until his mother, Kaye, a relief teacher, intervened?
In his chapter, ‘Bats and Hats’, Ben takes square aim at restaurant guides and losing a hat in the Good Food Guide Awards:
"The veneer is thin and worn, like on old Ikea shelves. If the fake, shiny things in the restaurant world had lost their shine before 2020, then the belt-sander force of nature that appeared in March of that year ripped off the remaining varnish and left only hard rubbish.
"Dining rooms had been inverted and what we thought we knew was so soundly shaken from its foundations that I was forced to question everything but especially Attica’s relationship with restaurant guides. As the restaurant industry was plunged into an abyss, the silence from these guides was deafening. The institutions that had built their businesses on writing about us – judging, selling, using and pigeonholing us – disappeared overnight.
"Collectively, we realised that we were alone. That feeling was f*****g wild. My long-held suspicion that the guides were more dependent on us than we were on them was vindicated.”
Ben goes on to say globally, during the pandemic restaurants continued to serve their customers however they could through takeaway and whatever side hustles they could manage – but the guides, whose professional identity relies on their work, did nothing.
"Without restaurants functioning as restaurants, they had nothing to write about. With the realisation that their business model really was as shallow as I felt it was, the power swung swiftly in our direction. We soon learnt that our restaurants could continue to innovate with new dishes and projects, as well as get by financially, in the absence of the major publications.
"For two years, restaurants in Australia received respite from being reviewed for guides. For the first time in my 27-year career, I was living without the pressure of an impending visit from a restaurant critic.”
Then there’s his reference to food journalists, who he calls ‘Jimmys’:
"The majority of food critics don’t have a better palate than you, are no more expert than you are. How can they be? They don’t actually make anything; can’t hack it in other forms of journalism.”
For the record, my career spans positions as Chief Reporter, Sub-editor, NZ’s first female Sports Editor, Production Manager and now Editor at AGFG.
I think this is one ‘Jimmy’ who can hack it!
While l get Ben’s frustration and desire to advance the hospitality industry, I ask the question:
"You admit you have benefitted from the system. What did you hope to achieve with this book?”
The things that shone through for me are Ben’s natural ability to write, his unwavering love for his staff, his comedic charm (read the chapter on his PowerPoint presentation as to why Kylie should get with him) and his honesty.
This is a book that will ruffle feathers, receive applause and create divides.
What do you think?
