Archived Article By Tom Fitzmorris Originally published October , 2007 The Decline Of Gourmet Societies Would you be interested in joining a gourmet society? I didn't think so. When I first entered the world of fine dining, in my early twenties, I was often invited to attend dinners put on by gourmet groups. The two biggest are still around: the Chaine des Rotisseurs and the International Wine and Food Society. Both of these are worldwide organizations with local chapters. Both are private clubs to which one must be invited to join. The induction ceremonies are ceremonious. The Chaine--whose distinctive medals chefs love to wear when they have their pictures taken--has an especially grand ritual. In it, the prospective member swears that he will see to it that all meat under his care is either broiled or roasted. I know quite a few people in both these two societies. To a great extent, they're the same people who were in it thirty years ago. So it must have some attraction. But perhaps not to people of my (Baby Boom) generation. Let alone those younger than that. I've never been a member; never asked to be, never was asked. I know a few people my age who are in wine clubs that sometimes stage dinners, but that's as close as it gets. The reason gourmet societies are not the big deal they once were is that the dinners they're famous for can now be had virtually any night of the week by anybody. Hardly a day goes by that doesn't have a wine dinner scheduled somewhere, paired with unusual food. This leaves two advantages to the gourmet clubs. First, they invest in wine cellars so they can drink older bottles of wine at their dinners. (Buying young and cheap and then holding is the only sensible way to own old vintages.) Second, the members become old friends. (Or, sometimes, old enemies.) My favorite gourmet society is the Societe de les Escargots a la Nouvelle Orleans. They began as a group of journalists who got together at Antoine's in the 1940s and staged dinners in what became known as the Escargot Room--the very last room in the back of Antoine's, with a large, stylized snail designed by the famous local cartoonist John Chase. I understand that they're still in existence. I've never been to one of their dinners, but someday I hope to. But they've never asked me, either. I think I may be viewed by them as a young upstart. © 2007 Tom Fitzmorris. All rights reserved. news@nomenu.com