The Everycook of the future.

Last night, while my roommates, a couple friends and I sat around our dinner table, picking at our unplanned Asian/Italian fusion dinner of two kinds of salads (arugula and mizuna with balsamic and mixed seaweed) and two kinds of noodles (spaghetti with marinara and egg noodles in peanut sauce), sipping wine and later Scotch, and chatting about our days, I asked their thoughts on Condé Nast's morning announcement to close four of its publications, including Gourmet, the high-gloss and -- some say -- high-brow picture Bible of all things epicurean. I'd spent a good part of the afternoon reading news articles, blog tributes and surprisingly emotional tweets on the subject; it seemed to be all anyone was talking about. When my inquiry was met with blank stares and more questions (mainly "What?"), I was first caught off-guard and then put in my place. Food news is a big deal for me; I follow some 70 food bloggers, journalists and industry personalities on Twitter. Most of them would have us convinced that U.S. food culture, by way of food education and standards, is on the rise. Yet, here were five young, professional New Yorkers -- three of whom belong to their local CSA, three of whom are ardent vegetarians, one of whom is a former restaurant publicist, and all but one of whom like to cook -- and none of them had heard the news. When they did, their reactions weren't all that passionate; they were pragmatic.

By now, those who care about Gourmet's fate know the reason the magazine was closed is purely a matter of economics. The New York Times reported today Gourmet's ad revenue was down 43 percent this year, and its circulation was roughly two-thirds of Bon Appétit, its in-house rival who survived the cut despite being, in the minds of many of aforementioned bloggers, journalists and food industry personalities, the lesser magazine. Bon Appétit is for the Everycook, Gourmet for the, well, gourmand. "In choosing Bon Appétit over Gourmet," The Times said, "Condé Nast reflected a bigger shift both inside and outside the company: influence, and spending power, now lies with the middle class." Are we to assume, then, that the middle class isn't on the same page as the rest of us?

I consider myself to be very much a part of the middle class, and the idea of a luxury magazine not appealing to me is absurd on many levels. First and foremost, to me Gourmet was not a luxury magazine. It appealed to food lovers and travelers on a deeper, more sensual and serious level; if that's luxurious, so be it. Taste exists outside of class (surely there are New Yorker readers who did not go to college, classical music aficionados with nothing more than a keen ear for what they know to be good). I once attended a cocktail party at which a middle-aged textile designer was lamenting the string of designer budget lines being sold at Target. In his eyes, good design was not for the masses, but for the well-appointed. To that I shouted, Garbage!

The real sadness, for me, is the closing of another publication for which I will never write. That's what I raised my glass to last night (and that inspired a whole other conversation about the future of print media, in general). Clearly, I think blogs are important, but if they are the death of print media, then shame on me and all of us. Show me a blogger who wants to go it alone, and I'll show you 10 just looking for a way up and out. Yes, I write about food because I love both food and writing. Both make me very happy; both inspire and motivate. But I also write a blog hoping someone will take notice, and hopefully take a chance on me. With each magazine closure, an audience dies. And with it, they take a little of my hope that there is a future -- not just for me, but for all of us -- in this business.