The Cocktail Nation

American Demographics, July 1, 1998 by Marc Spiegler

Don't go to steakhouses, however, to try confirming this trend. The National Cattlemen's Beef Association, which tracks red meat's popularity using an independent NET/NPD-Crest survey, boasts that the number of steakhouse patrons increased 43 percent between 1993 and 1997, when measured over a two-week period. Spending in casual steakhouses almost doubled over the period, to $2.3 million in 1997.

The implication seems clear: steak is becoming a restaurant treat, rather than an at-home staple. "People might be cutting back at home, but when they go out they say, 'I'm gonna splurge,'" says Donnie Madia, who owns with a partner the hot-spot Blackbird restaurant in Chicago. "Frankly, I've been a little surprised. But people like their red meat; they want that eight-ounce fillet."

THE TRUTH BEHIND THE TREND

In searching for an explanation of Americans' renewed taste for the finer forms of indulgence, you can start by deep-sixing any notion of an anti-health backlash. In the same 1997 Wirthlin Report cited above, adults indicated the following recent changes in their eating habits: 68 percent buy more "light" or low-fat foods; 68 percent read nutritional labels before buying food; 65 percent watch their cholesterol intake more closely; 65 percent eat fast food less often.

Trying to reconcile the "cocktail nation" trend with our almost-obsessive concern over health, it's instructive to think about St. Patrick's Day-ironically enough, a generally beery holiday. In most American cities, parades march for hours, Kelly-green sweaters keep revelers warm, and affected brogues boom through the air. Want a tamer St. Patrick's Day? Go to Dublin. In Ireland the occasion draws only a fraction of its stateside fanfare.

Sociologists have a name for this phenomenon: "Symbolic ethnicity." Your average Irish American, for example, is less likely than his parents to live among other Irish Americans, know any Irish, or have visited Ireland. To compensate for the loss of the deeper ethnic connections, the theory goes, such rapidly assimilating Americans redouble their efforts on ethnic holidays.

In much the same way, the cocktail nation may well represent a sort of symbolic hedonism. Having quit smoking, people smoke an occasional cigar. After regularly choosing salads over fast food, diners reward themselves with a Porterhouse steak every now and then. And even the alcohol industry has made a mantra of the "drinking less, drinking better" concept. Much as we may miss the everyday highs that come from previous bad habits, the 1990s' productivity-paced lifestyle makes them difficult to sustain. But when the pressure lifts momentarily, we make the most of it.

Still, there's some truth to the idea that Americans have rebelled against a completely spartan lifestyle. Brad Fay of Roper Starch Worldwide calls current attitudes toward indulging "cool fusion," a process in which Americans meld together seemingly contradictory habits to achieve a more emotionally balanced, enjoyable lifestyle. "We see this in many aspects of American life," he says. "Think of the Victorian-style house, complete with a wraparound porch, but also wired for new technologies. Or the mixing of business travel with vacation time, something people never used to do. Or people taking more work home, but also conducting more personal business at the office. It's an end to either/or, black-and-white thinking."