Food in my life

Food is a very interesting thing to us as humans. We need only a minimal portion to survive, but our bodies can physically take in much more than just that. There are only a few basic elements in food that are useful to us, but it is often the part that is unhealthy or simply not valuable that appeals to our taste the most. Our eating defines us, whether it is the quantity, quality, or frequency with which we eat, it varies based on geographical location, social/economic status, and whoever may be around us. Civilizations and people in history have been built up and destroyed by food, either having too much or too made them succeed or fail. Why is it that something which is so basic, yet remains a necessity, can have such an impact on us beyond merely filling our stomachs?

            As far as I have observed over my short 20 years, I am really not the best candidate for observing an over-affectionate connection with food. I like to eat, and there are some foods I like more than others, but I wouldn’t quite call myself passionate about food. I am pretty sure I inherited this sentiment from my mother’s side of the family, actually. I think my mother is a wonderful cook, and growing up she prepared a variety of meals that covered quite a range of dishes. But she didn’t even really like to cook very much now, and has even expressed to me now that I am living on my own that it is a relief to cook for just her and my father! The humor in this comes from the fact that she and I were always happy to eat anything, while my sister and father are the “foodies” in our family. They weren’t picky, either, but they maintained an enthusiasm that I believe is much more common in modern American culture that my mother and I never quite caught up on.

It’s not to say that my mother and I had no sense of taste, but we viewed food in more of an opportunistic way; if it were there, we would eat it. We both have very small appetites and stomachs I suppose, and have been known to “accidentally” skip a meal, an act my sister or father could never manage without some serious complaint!

I say that it is from my mother’s side of the family because of what I know about my grandmother, my mother’s mother. She and I are very similar, but it seems that every attribute I got from here was watered down quite a bit, luckily for me! My grandmother has personally admitted to have virtually no sense of taste at all. Thus, my mother grew up eating very bland, boring meals when my grandmother was cooking. Luckily, my mother recognized this lacking in her childhood and although she wasn’t as fond of food as most people, she recognized the need for flavor and diversity and cooked very well for my sister, father and I.

One of the most overused, small talk questions that everyone asks is, “what is your favorite food?” This question has always stumped me, at great frustration to those who have asked me. “How can you not have a favorite food? Everyone has a favorite food!” Not in my case, apparently. There are a few things I despise, without a doubt, but the other side of the spectrum is much harder for me to put a finger on. I have always had an affinity for meat; a trait I know came from my father the “grillmaster”. I love to grill because he taught me how to perfectly grill meat when I was very young, and even now my parents have me grill for them when I am home. But do I really like it more than the wide array of soups my mother made? She actually enjoyed making her own soups and toying with the recipes, and after years of living in very cold climates, few meals can compare to a hot bowl of soup when it is blowing snow outside. A token gesture of course, as the warmth comes from being in a warm house, but there is something I can’t quite distinguish about warm meals on a cold night. I also really like fruit; it is basically nature’s healthy candy and reminds me of eating outside in the summertime. But again, how can soup, meat, and fruit all stand side by side in a competition for my favorite? It’s not like they can fight it out in a cage match for “Champion of Arthur’s Taste Buds.” Perhaps all food really does have its place. I think my mother’s diverse yet unbiased cooking has given me a very practical outlook on food. Every item has its place and flavor, and hey, isn’t it all just about keeping you alive anyways?