I was going to try to summarize this whole article in New York Magazine this week called “The Twee Party,” asking if Brooklyn’s artisanal movement is a step forward for food or a sign of the apocalypse, but then I read sentences like the following and I had a twee allergy overload so intense that I am presently trying to declog sinuses of cross-stitched granola bars and locally brewed marmalade-flavored session mayonnaise, so I had to stop reading. Exhibit A): “There is the twee comedy of eating Brooklynishly, and then there’s the twee sincerity of producing Brooklynishly: wide-eyed entrepreneurs slogging through the nitty-gritty of business-building. The word artisan, shopworn as it may be, is usually not, actually, an affectation.” And exhibit B): “While the carefully considered choice of what jar to put your homemade jam in might seem like design-junkie hairsplitting, economic-development types hope that a borough’s worth of would-be jelly moguls could actually add up to something more.”
With this girl still fresh in our memories, it seems we’re reaching a zenith (or nadir) of our tolerance for cutesy wutesy, twee and precious things in Brooklyn. So tell us your thoughts on twee: like it or spike it? Important note: We at Brokelyn don’t actually encourage hate in any form, just healthy skepticism, please. And really; is good food doing anyone any harm? I will say that to those of us who point our diets in a different direction, all you artisanal-obsessed foodies sweating over what the thread count was on the sheets your dead cow slept on look like hilarious fetishists you seen on HBO at 4am to us.