In America we eat, collectively,
with a glum urge for food to fill us.
We are ignorant of flavours.
We are as nation, taste-blind.
I have been thinking about food lately, and I blame Open Mouth, Insert Fork and Restless Chef. Earlier this week I worried about feeding them at the Great Bacon Caper Breakfast of Champions. Just when Pasadena Adjacent had relaxed my nerves, Restless Chef had to go and write about "unworthy dining companions." I am caretaker to a number of unworthy dining companions. Don't get me started.
Suffice to say, many of us do often eat with "a glum urge for food to fill us," and not just physically but also emotionally. Did you see the LA Times health section last week? Seventy percent of Americans admit to using food to deal with increased stress caused by these dire economic times. Personally, I don't need fear of unemployment to get me eating. Just today, I sat down with a big bowl of cherry chocolate-chip ice cream because I'd reached my limit. Delicious. And I swear it made me feel better.
It's natural to associate food with comfort. Mother's milk and all that. But why must we be taste-blind? I think it's fear. Fear of the new. Fear of the foreign. And how sad is that?
So tomorrow, when you go to the Blogger's picnic -- because of course you must go -- you must promise to try something new. You must taste with all your senses. You must proclaim: "Taste-blind No Longer!" No unworthy dining companions! Ever!
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