I love food. I’m not mincing words. We have a hardcore love affair going on, only limited by my allergies and my stomach capacity. First, the video for the day: Wet Wet Wet’s Love is All Around. Substitute food for love, and well, you see where I’m going with this.
Back to food. My friend, Rizzo, told me that there was a study showing that people who hit their heads as kids tend to be hedonists when it comes to food. She has hit her head, so have I. Here is her blog filled with glorious pictures of the food she makes (plus a story about that study): Life’s A Feast.
The Food Network has been called porn for foodies, and it’s not far from the truth. I can surf websites with pictures of luscious food, and I can do it for hours. My brother is afflicted with the same addiction, but I don’t think he was hit on the head as a kid. He’s the reason I hit my head, but that’s neither here nor there. I work for him, and we were surfing food sites one day. That got us so hungry, we had to go get some food.
I love the myriad of tastes that dance upon my tongue. Whether it’s the bittersweetness of dark chocolate, the searing heat of habanero pepper (and yes, it’s a specific taste), the crisp sweetness of a starfruit, or one of a million other tastes, I revel in each bite.
I have a long and complicated history with eating and my body, but I have never outgrown my love for foods.
I love the different textures from the prickliness of pineapple to the silky-smoothness of custard, and everything in between. There is a visceral pleasure in indulging in exquisitely-made food. It doesn’t have to be gourmet food, either (you know, the kind with ridiculously teeny-tiny portions and elaborate presentation); it can be a simple, hearty corn chowder that is made with fresh ingredients and love.
Food is a unifier–it bring s people together. We bond over food, and we meet over food. Hell, if you’re Asian, it’s practically a given that there will be a potluck every time two or more of us get together. Food is a mother’s way of saying she cares. Food is nourishing, both physically and emotionally. If someone gives you a present of food that she made herself, you know that a lot of love went into it.
In our society, food has become the enemy. Women are taught to fear it, to disdain it, and to do terrible things to it in the name of ‘dieting’. Leaf through a diet magazine, and you can see helpful tips such as, take one bite of your dessert and pour salt over the rest of the slice so you won’t be tempted to eat any more. Besides the obvious wastefulness of this, what did the poor dessert ever do to you? It serves one purpose in life–to be eaten with pleasure. You don’t want to deprive it of its purpose, do you?
We are told that food is not love, that food is just fuel for our bodies, and that we should think of food in a purely functional way. To this I say, bite me. Seriously! Talk about your major joy-killers. Food engages the senses and is such a pleasure-producer. It’s sensuous, luxurious, steamy, and all that good stuff. Yes, food is a necessity, but it’s more than that. Food is one of life’s greatest gifts, and it takes some kind of twisted mentality to make it a bad thing.
I could go on and on about my love of food (obviously), but I’m going to stop here. Food–it’s what I love today.
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