On Food and Love

My landlord stopped by the other day to check on our furnace (which needs to be replaced after being submerged beneath 6 feet of water and not “fixed” like he thought) and mentioned in passing that he couldn’t eat mashed potatoes anymore (I was making them at the time). Something to do with cholesterol and a hardening of the arteries. Not at all worth giving up potatoes slathered in butter, sour cream, and milk. I mean, if you’re going to be living, you should be LIVING, right? Here’s my new goal in life: To never ever get to the point where I need to give up a food I love.

I exercise not because it’s good for me, but because it means I don’t have to diet. Because here’s the sad truth. I CAN’T diet. When it comes to food, I have no will power (well, except during Lent, but that’s only because there’s an END). Don’t get me wrong, the foods I eat are normally healthy and fresh, but not because I’m dieting, because to me, THAT is good food. That is what I crave (when I'm not craving chocolate or Skittles or mashed potatoes slathered in butter and sour cream). I can’t imagine giving up the foods I love for the rest of my life. Like everyone else, I'm guilty of falling into the "I'll Just Make PB&J for Lunch Because I Have No Time" trap. And those days are sad and colorless. I crave something with taste. Something new and exciting or familiar and comforting.

For me, eating and eating well is one of life’s true joys. You know those times when you bite into something so incredibly delectable, you just sit there and sigh, at a complete loss for words? Those are the moments I live for. Growing up with an Italian grandmother taught me one thing: to eat good food is to know love. You could be completely alone, and a bite of something that tastes like Heaven can fill you with such completeless, you need nothing else in life at that moment.

What is it about food that makes it transcend mere sustenance and provide comfort, even love? Sometimes it's the people; either the people who cook the food, or the ones with whom you are eating. Or perhaps it's the simple chemistry of ingredients providing taste. I'm sure it's different no matter whom you ask. But one thing is for sure: there's no better way to show someone you love them, than cooking for them (even if what you make is completely inedible).

I experienced this after my mother passed away. Friends, people in the community, cooked us casseroles or soups, and left them at our front door, not to insinuate my father was unable to cook (he's a fantastic cook), but because that was the best way they knew how to show their love and support. It was such a simple gesture, and so loving.

So, tonight, your assignment is this: wherever you are, whatever you're eating, slow down, focus on the taste and enjoy it. I remember my grandfather coming over after dinner every night when I was little. He was diabetic and was forced to give up the foods he loved (he had a terrible sweet tooth). Every night, out from under the watchful eye of my Nonni, he would drive to our house and have a bite of dessert. One little bite. Because he knew firsthand, it is a sad, sad life without good food.