I wish I could tell you that the real reasons I ardently pursued admission to the University of Gastronomic Sciences were my deep respect for the food traditions of other cultures, and my desire to initiate change in how humans treat the environment and each other. But there’s something deeper, more personal; something without which I would not have developed the other motivations: I am lucky enough to have regular, satisfying food-gasms; in public as well. I mean spine-tingling, toe curling, table gripping, full-body release. And I’m noisy.
Some of you already know what I’m talking about; don’t be ashamed. Is it any wonder that the act of eating can evoke in us such sensations? How intimate is the action of introducing a substance into our bodies, especially one that has passed through so many hands on its way to our eager mouths. Food-gasms do not manifest sitting at McDonald’s, however. They come from meals prepared with time, attention and passion; from ingredients raised with care. The food itself does not have to be complicated or expensive. Often a single bite of a ripe, juicy tomato, or a homemade meal can be enough to precipitate that sense of satisfaction. Food-gasms are characterized by an infusion of joy and wellbeing, as if you are unraveling within yourself all the energy expended by those who played a role in getting the food to your plate. These experiences stay with you too.
My first food-gasm in Parma, for example, happened quite recently. I was in a trattoria with a small group of friends. My primo arrived: tagliolini al culatello. Just looking at the plate in front of me, my breath quickened. The deep yellow tagliolini, clearly handmade by their irregular widths, were lightly coated in buttery cream, thin strips of culatello dispersed throughout. I twirled, coaxing the first bite onto my fork, raised it, knowing what was coming, and closed my mouth over the first bite. I could immediately feel the fire of excitement in my belly grow as my nerves crackled with activity, and I blushed, knowing my companions could see me smiling, lips parted, gripping my utensils, eyes filled with unshed tears of joy, but it didn’t matter. Several of them were similarly glazed over, emitting little moans of satisfaction in between looking knowingly from one to another, acknowledging our communal experience.
In fact, my most memorable episodes have been in groups, and I have also witnessed the change in the quality of the products my peers seek out as a result of their blissful awakening, and the more people who care about what they eat, the little bit closer we get to a more sustainable and just future. Though our love affair with food might have begun with a food-gasm, it can lead to a sincere desire to make a difference. So don’t be shy. Share. You too could introduce someone to the producer that produces, in them, a food-gasmic experience.
