There’s two types of people in this world— those that love food, and those that make love to food. I am of the latter persuasion. It’s been more of a curse than a blessing, but it’s part of who I am— a foodie. I’ve stopped dead in my tracks to stare at a menu, and I’ve ear-marked restaurants months in advance of my going to them. I’ve searched through recipes and spent hours upon hours gliding through the aisles of supermarkets. It’s almost soothing to spend that much time browsing ketchup bottles. It brings an organization to my life that you would be hard pressed to find in my apartment or any other aspect of my life for that matter. Call it dependency, call it obsession, call it whatever you want, but food is my passion.
When it comes down to it, eating is just as sensual as having sex. It dominates your senses with smells and tastes, and tell me your mouth isn’t watering already. I had largely discovered food when I discovered cooking, which was two years ago. I had to cook. I was compelled by the desire to eat. Suddenly, food was in my hands to make. A huge portion of my time goes into planning meals— tonight’s dinner, tomorrow’s breakfast, and so on. Planning out meals is actually a pastime. Like video games to gamers, like crack to addicts, food is an entirely irresistible drug for me, and I constantly crave the next fix.
It is even more than that, though. It’s a coagulator, a social stimulator; it’s the glue that holds everyone together. It’s like those Olive Garden commercials that show everyone laughing over the never-ending pasta bowls, and it makes you want to spend your life eating salad and bread sticks there. They’ve got a point. Just this past week I had the proverbial “girls night out” with three of my close friends. We went out to dinner, and when we were done, it felt like I had just walked out of a confessional. It may have been the three bottles of wine we drank, but the exceptional dishes we ordered (poached potato gnocchi with white truffle oil, lobster, and three-cheese gratin) didn’t hurt any.
There’s delicacy foods out there that really break the rules on animal cruelty and the moral convictions are something I think about a lot, however, when a plate of foie gras appears in front of me, I just have to throw caution to the wind. For those that don’t know what foie gras is… I’ll tell you. But you can’t judge me. It’s the liver of a duck or goose that has been force-fed to enlarge the organ. I know, I know! Don’t say it. But it’s so tender. So tender.
I thrive on weird and exotic foods like liver, caviar, and tongue— the weirder the better. Though, it’s the process of making food that is most intriguing. Shows like Top Chef and Iron Chef are my Lost and Arrested Development. They give me something to look forward to, something to lick my lips over. I love discovering new tastes and ingredients, and novel ways to enhance the art of eating, so I never get bored. The science of food is called gastroenterology, and it’s just as involved as chemistry or biology. In fact, molecular gastroenterology uses the fundamentals of chemistry to transform food into art, into something more than just sustenance. There is a whole culture dedicated to it, and if people didn’t love to drool over Paula Dean’s three butter stick cookie crumbles on the Food Network, there wouldn’t be an entire channel, cooking stores, cooking classes, schools, and restaurants dedicated to it.
There’s a reason the presentation of an entrée is so meticulous. Those crazy green scribbles on your plate aren’t a secret message from the chef— they’re there to be aesthetically beautiful, as well as sensational-tasting. They’re there because someone conceptualized that dish and put it all together like a painting, or a collage. So, maybe you should try that thing on the menu that you’ve always been afraid to eat. Find a new recipe you’ve never made before, and explore the vibrant culinary community. Just close your eyes, open your mouth, and believe in the force.
