I'm not a "foodie." Don't take me wrong, I eat when I'm hungry, I eat well, and I enjoy the companionship of a shared table. But I don't really enjoy cooking, and frankly, eating is a chore. To be perfectly honest, if doctors could install a small nuclear device into my stomach that only had to be refueled once every two-decades, I'd be fine with that. Okay, now it's been said.
So the usual response when I note this perspective to my character is, "Wow! You just don't know what you're missing!" And this is generally stated as though I am either a strict raw-food vegan or a McDonald's addict, or as if I've never eaten anything home-cooked, or had a $200 meal. However, such an assumption about my life experiences is little more than a supposition based in ignorance.
Just to be clear, I am most certainly an omnivore, and I won't eat at McDonald's until the "McEdible" appears on their menu. I frequently cook for myself. And when I eat out, I prefer either local family restaurants where they take pride in the quality of their food, or ethnic places where I can at least enjoy the atmosphere (if not some high-quality fermented products).
I also like to sample new things -- just in case. From Thai roti in Chiang Mai to tarantulas at the riverside markets in Phnom Penh, there isn't much I haven't at least tried. I've also eaten in venues from the Lao Pa Sat (Festival Market) in Singapore to the Hakodate Asaichi (morning market) in Hokkaido (arguably the world's best seafood). And it's only a 5-minute water-taxi ride to the Granville Island Farmer's Market from my place in Vancouver. And at least once a year, I am treated to a ridiculously expensive dinner.
Of course, there are a few things that I have decided not to eat again, konowata, or sea-cucumber entrails being one. And I've learned to be careful about foods interpreted from outside of their own cultures, particularly those which involve fermentation. But mostly, my eating experiences have been good, at least to the extent that they have involved pleasant social contacts that I might not otherwise have experienced. However, I am still not particularly interested in food in itself as a source of joy.
In fact, food has many ways of being little more than a persistent nuisance for me. It can be time-consuming, difficult to find, distracting, and is frequently available only in the fast variety that I simply refuse to ingest. Sometimes, it can even make a person sick, and it can be difficult to tell when that will be the case. So my take is that given the choice, I will generally pass on making any more of a production out of eating than is absolutely necessary to maintain my good health.
Regardless, my life without the compulsion to eat every meal as though it were my last is far from empty. The exhilaration of living seems to have found it's way into my consciousness without the focus on food. Whether awash in the fragrance of Spanish Broom while riding a motorcycle down a mountain canyon with the wind at my back, or tasting the salt of my own sweat while watching the sun rise from the top of a mountain, my senses and my wonder for life are none the less fulfilled without worrying about whether dinner will be cooked in a gourmet kitchen or over a 55-gallon drum.
I have no problem with others who love food, perhaps even to the point where it is the central figure in their lives. Passion can be a great thing. And with discipline and within reason, it can cause a person to accomplish much. As long as one is not overindulgent or simply engaging in sugary distraction, I see no reason to object to that which brings joyful emotion.
But please, don't shed any tears for my ignorant bliss; I wouldn't have it any other way. And to those who still can't resist the urge to remind me that I don't fit their Jell-O mold, my response is simply that, "I can't grow another stomach just to please the chef."
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Comments: 38
On the other hand, while I can't claim to have sampled from as many cuisines, I can say that I am one of the few people I know who has prepared roadkill for dinner, and who owns not one but two recipes for woodchuck and has tried both out.
What I have learned is that it is wonderful to have "foodies" as friends, though. I have learned quite a few good recipes from then, and learned how to 'rescue' dinners that have gone awry.
That's an interesting perspective that I actually hadn't considered. Since I've never had to eat (or needed to cook) for anyone other than myself, that's probably very much limited my view of the place of food. And I honestly can't say I've ever eaten (or had to eat) roadkill.
My father was the "chef" in our house. In retrospect, despite the fact that I was often not around for dinner, I appreciate his concern for the well-being of his family.
I think I would love your cooking, Pete. You are my culinary champion!
As for college, I once had a housemate who could throw a tortilla on the gas burner and cook a whole meal in three-minutes -- without leaving any dishes to wash. Despite my envy of her collegiate culinary skills, I must admit to having eaten more than my fair share of mac-and-cheese and microwave "burritos" during that phase of my life.
America needs to be introduced to the idea of the Cornish Pasty. Traditional in Cornwall, the most south westerly corner of England a cornish pasty can contain anything that comes to hand. Throw all your stuff in a pot with some stock and make a nice thick hash. Roll out some pastry to about an eighth of an inch and make discs by cutting round a plate. Dun some hash in the middle of each disc, bringing the edges together to for a purse shape, Now pinch and twist the edges so the pastry does not come apart. Whack it in the oven and 40 minutes later it should look like a Klingon's forehead. The resulting pie will fit nicely into a tin miners pocket when he was going to work down the mine so it was the first convenience food. Much more wholesome than microwave burritos.
They do really throw anything in pasties down in Cornwall, gut instinct rules. In the north we are much more discerning about what goes in our meat pies.
There's a local legend that The Devil will never set foot in Corwall, he's afraid if he did a Cornish housewife would put him in a pasty.
I'll tell you about another Cornish delicacy, Starry Gazy pie one day.
Ian, I cook that stuff all the time! It's the reason for my dental implant.
You would not fit in a jello mold, I am sure. There must be a much more elegant mold that would be perfect. Exotic and well-traveled!
I have a very good friend who I suspect has similar tastes to your own -- and I always enjoy sharing a table with him, usually at some pit-stop for motorcyclists.
However, my favourite items to cook are puddings and cakes. None of which I eat!
I was like you before I moved to Italy. There I discovered food for the first time. It was like a deaf person being cured, and hearing music for the first time (to follow on Pete's theme).
Another lesson was that good food quality makes a huge difference in how you feel.
I agree with your food quality statement, however. In all honesty, I felt far better after having had a Thai diet for a couple of years than I ever did on anything I ever tried in America (granted I didn't have much of an appetite when I was younger). Who knows, I'm always open to trying new things, and tastes can change. I'm just not particularly good at faking enthusiasm.
Oh Pete, I long ago had a friend who was half Italian and half Spanish/Thai (sigh...). Her mother could cook up a mean lasagña -- it would take all day, and I would show great self-restraint.
I always lost weight in Italy when I was living in both places at once. I gained it all back after a couple of weeks in the US. The portions in Italy are a fraction of what they are here. But there are tastes that I never experienced before. The act of eating some of those dishes, was, as Pete says, something quite special, an appreciation of an artists work.
Pete, Now where would your son have learned to do such a thing?!
A friend in Yokohama is actually a food reviewer for some trendy magazine in Tokyo, and I guess she also designs menus. Still didn't get me anything free, though. Does Edoardo do any work abroad?
Surprising how many "legitimate" businesses are scams. He'd probably do well in the States.
I haven't been to Hokkaido, but Vancouver has some incredible sushi stops...more raw mmmmmness.
Let's face it, if we didn't want bacon, we never would have even bothered to invent fire.
In Vancouver; however, I recommend izakaya. "Kobachi" on Denman St. between Robson and Alberni would be my first choice, although it can get a bit rowdy in the evenings. Even if you don't like the food, you'll probably leave with a grin.
As for the American versions, I think they are really just an excuse for someone who is a "foodie."
My negative childhood experiences with food, allowed me to fully appreciate virtually everything I have eaten since.
My experiences weren't perhaps so negative as your own. My dad could cook up a good plate. Perhaps I just don't know what it is to be really hungry.