Philpott is exasperated with the slew of food media using extreme local eating to sell papers: “In what now feels like a very familiar narrative device…[Gopnik indulges] in some high-toned philosophizing that’s really pretty facile.” Yes, Gopnik pokes fun at the fervor with which some eccentric New Yorkers pursue their quixotic dreams, but I read him as more amused than scornful.

I understand why Philpott got miffed—after all, he makes an honest, unweird living off the very philosophies Gopnik mocked—but I still think that local eating triumphs in its role as a supporting character in Gopnik’s locavorism roast. It’s like the No Impact Man, Colin Beavan, who along with his family is spending a year in New York City consuming as little as possible. Some people think he detracts from the green movement by making it seem as if you have to be a fruitcake to participate (for the record, Colin Beavan is not a fruitcake.) Personally, I think that any media coverage of overconsumption and its satellite issues add to the momentum of the green movement. In the same vein, Gopnik’s piece, which spoke admiringly about as many producers as it mocked, does the same. (Peter Hoffmann, Gabrielle Langholtz, Dave Graves, the Mexican farmers at Decker Farm got the thumbs up, Freddie the Chicken Purveyor, Steve “Wildman” Brill, Martin Schreibman, Ian Marvy got the poke-poke-wink-wink “What a character!” treatment.)

Incidentally, Philpott’s writing is nearly as beautiful as Gopnik’s, and it’s a real pleasure to see them parry throughout the piece. Maybe we’ll see him in the New Yorker next year.