Philosophy on Food

This is a post I’ve thought about writing a million times, but keep getting worried about the perception that it would create. But today, I don’t really care.

Impressively, in recent years I have somehow managed to mask my immense love for food. Perhaps I’m not quite as greedy as I used to be. But for sure, one of the factors that has contributed to my cover-up is that in my circle of friends there’s always one person who’s overtly greedy and always ‘hungry’.

But believe me, I can eat. For many years I’ve been the largest consumer of food in my family. I’ve never been the type to leave some of my food behind or to be stuffed before I’m done. That, in essence, has proven to be my weakness.

You see, my love for my food has led to a particular selfishness. On many (maybe most…) occasions I’m not so enthused about sharing my food with others. For me, eating is a process, which starts from a foreplay-like buildup to a climatic finish . You know, scratch that… it probably isn’t a good idea to compare eating to climaxes.

Back to plain English- I enjoy every moment of meal consumption (am I sounding any better?). As a result, if I have to share my food, it breaks my flow of enjoyment. I hope I’m making sense. Plus, and quite simply, it means less food for me. And that cannot happen! While I’ve had to force myself to deal with this reality of social interactions, I don’t always accept it.

Case in point: Friday morning. No breakfast. Hungry bad! ROTI and curry chicken ordered for lunch! Roti and curry is one of my favourite meals on earth. I was extremely excited when I saw it on the lunch menu. I was smelling it well before the restaurant (which is miles away) had even started preparing it. So lunch time arrives. I throw my food in the microwave. Now, standing beside me is a complaining female friend. She ordered mutton and roti; unfortunately, somehow her lunch order was mixed up, and she ended up with rice and peas (or rice and beans, for EC people) and mutton. She isn’t happy. She, too, was looking forward to roti. It’s not that she doesn’t eat rice and peas; she just doesn’t feel like having any. “Unfortunate”, I think.

She asks me what I ordered for lunch… Reluctantly, I tell her. “I’m having some of yours,” she says in a friendly, but audaciously demanding way. “No your not!”, I respond very matter-of-factly. I can be just as audacious. The microwave beeps, I remove my food and find a seat in the lunchroom. I have no idea what direction she goes in after that.

Pack to the present. It’s Monday morning now and I haven’t heard from her since that ‘audacious’ conversation on Friday afternoon.

Cruel and cold? Perhaps. But there are two or three important points to note here.
The first is, she didn’t ask! If it were someone I was closer to (we’re good-ish friends, but not great) she probably could’ve gotten away with that. But if she’d asked, there’s a 95% chance I would have indulged, if only because of conscience.

However, the more important point is my ‘philosophy on food’, the one which generally governs my way of thinking:

“I wouldn’t have bought my food if I didn’t plan to eat it!”
Now, in my defence, I can almost guarantee you that if the roles were reversed (if it was my lunch order that was messed up), I would not have asked anybody to give up some of their food for me. I would’ve simply have sucked it up. In fact, if I had received food that I simply don’t eat, I’d give it to someone else and acquire food elsewhere. That’s just how I operate. One’s opinion of this way of thinking is largely irrelevant; I plan on enjoying my meals anyway.

If you know me well and have never had a bad food experience with me, chances are you never will… But consider yourself warned!!!