Bruni ribs us a bit for the oversincere/obsessive/fetishistic foodie thing, but I must say, I was just in Williamsburg, and it's waaaaay worse there (my server here, where the menu unhelpfully says things like "fettuccine" or "tartare" and then they have to tell you everything else about everything, made me want to laugh SO BAD with her earnest, longwinded, adjectival explanations and carefully frizzy hair).
But Bruni also waxes (appropriately!) rhapsodic about our jaggedy treelines. It is very sweet. We love you too, Frank!