What is the first taste you remember?
Life begins in the mouth
We are born crying—either from innate shock, or the external slap of a doctor or nurse. The womb wasn’t like this; everything was provided for. And in the living world we are increasingly made accountable to fuel and provide for ourselves, until eventually the never-ending responsibility of a beating heart surrenders again to void.
But in the meantime there are rewards we can enjoy for the struggle, and chief among them is food.
In the last ten years, it became common to hear people talk about ‘love languages.’ Ways of expressing joy and tenderness that reflect how we engage with those we care for. Though to me the concept of the ‘love language’ feels like a pseudo-psychological fad, something that I am sincere towards is the most tangible bond I want to share with those closest to me: Food.
Joan Miro, Nature morte au raisin, 1920
I am a person of aloof ambition. Money and careerism is not high among my priorities. Instead, sensory and intellectual inspiration is more motivating in my life. I want to experience epiphanies and ecstasies that others will remain clueless to, in spite of whatever rewards may be dangled from lower branches.
In a world that is vastly driven by capital and the profit gained from converting quality to quantity, my sensory preoccupations can mark me as a loser.
But if I am a loser, it is only because I don’t want to play a game that strips the flavor from food to make it more effective fuel.
For years, I earned little money. I took the time I wasn’t investing in professional ambition to learn to cook, figuring that at least I would be able to eat like a wealthier man.
Picasso, The Frugal Repast, 1904.
As a young, broke man, I could woo and nurture the love of a woman by cooking for her. I could maintain some dignity and artistry in solitude by preparing my own food. I could talk with more seasoned people about the common taste and language around food. Food is a great equalizer that could allow me to access pleasures beyond the transitory ones that I prepared, chewed and swallowed. Learning about food became a path that would open new enlightenment reaching much further than the sensory one in my mouth.
Not everyone reads. People don’t all appreciate film or music or art.
But everyone eats.
And learning to eat at a level beyond functionality has allowed me to practice cultivating intention multiple times daily in a way that gives even dreary days the possibility for something better.