For a blog that isn't supposed to be about food to have 100% of its posts about food is not a good thing (I know its only two out of two posts so far, but it's a worrying trend). With this in mind I am now writing a post on the topic of not-food.
This post is definitely not about food, not anywhere in this text will you find a reference to food.
Although, by making a post about not-food, which is surely the antithesis of food, then am I making a reference to food? By writing about light am I inadvertently writing about dark, as its natural opposite? Mind-fuck.
How do I redeem? This was supposed to be a blog post to break my previous record of writing only about food, but now I feel as if I'm still stuck in the realm of the edible. Should I end it all now over not-food? Maybe it would be appropriate for me to not-eat myself to death.
I am a complete failure at sticking to the intended topic of not-food, at blogging, and at life.
Three out of three posts on this not-food blog are now about food.
At least I'm consistent with my off-topic ramblings.
Thursday, 13 October 2011
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
Murder Burger Murder
"I could murder a burger."
One way of verbally expressing a desire to eat a certain food is by saying that you 'could murder' it. Now, some people say that meat is murder...so if I could murder a burger, would I then be murdering murder?
World, consider yourself fixed.
One way of verbally expressing a desire to eat a certain food is by saying that you 'could murder' it. Now, some people say that meat is murder...so if I could murder a burger, would I then be murdering murder?
World, consider yourself fixed.
Tuesday, 11 October 2011
Mustard
"It's an acquired taste."
Heard that before? Today I realised that, after 24 years of hating mustard, I actually like the stuff. Yellow to the eye, sharp, spicy and pungent to taste and smell, it never had much of an appeal. You only need to type 'mustard gas' into Google to see how nasty the stuff can be, although for a long time it had seemed to me like throwing it at people you really didn't like was the only 'good use' for it. For some reason, though, over the past couple of months, I have been gradually forcing myself to try more and more mustard in my food. The first few times I tried it I experienced the same old reaction; disgust. But I couldn't resist trying it again, and again, and again. Now I can't eat a ham sandwich without the disgusting stuff. I love it. I still hate it, but I love it.
My inexplicable decision to learn to love mustard has got me wondering about 'acquired tastes', a term described by an on-line dictionary as referring to a taste that is "unpleasant on immediate experience or is likeable only after being experienced repeatedly".... it seems to defy all logic that something which gives an "unpleasant immediate experience" should ever be "experienced repeatedly", especially by choice. But here I am, right now, munching on a ham sandwich smeared with my new favourite yellow condiment. It's an interesting question, why would anyone ever force a disgusting food upon themselves until they eventually liked it? Maybe punching myself in the face is an acquired taste (and I do know people who like things like that), but I doubt the process of acquiring the taste is worth the eventual enjoyment that I might get from punching myself in the face. But why is mustard, and other similar 'acquired tastes', so different that we would choose to repeatedly endure something unpleasant until we actually enjoyed it?
Part of me thinks back to my first taste of beer. My dad offered a sip of his pint of lager to an initially excited young me when we were on holiday, and I remember thinking that I'd rather stick to my coca cola. Nowadays a cold pint can be the ultimate refreshment on a hot summers day, or after a long hard day of work (not that I've known many of them since returning to university). Obviously at some point I decided that it was worth making myself like it. I'm instantly excluding alcoholism as a reason for this, a small sip of lager at a tender young age could hardly have kick started an addiction for someone like myself, with a not-very-addictive personality. In this case there is one major factor I can think of which pushed me into the process of taste acquisition; the appeal of masculinity. Although I can only speak for myself, I assume that for most male teenagers becoming an adult man is goal number one, and liking beer is one of the features that we have been told by our culture to make a 'real man'. Perhaps one of the reasons for acquiring certain tastes is the association that those tastes, or the objects of those tastes, have with certain ideals in our society. By associating ourselves with the tastes associated with certain ideals, do we feel closer to those ideals?
Another beer-related example (maybe I was wrong about my not-very-addictive personality). Remembering back to Euro 2004 and a 17 year old me sat in the pub watching the England football team embarrass themselves (as has been an ever-present feature of England football match I've ever watched). I was blessed with the ability to grow facial hair at a fairly young age, otherwise I might not have been there, little did the bar staff know/care about my true age. Anyway, there was a promotion on at the bar. If you purchased x amount of John Smith's bitter then you were rewarded with a 'free' miniature football stuffed with fluff. Such was the appeal of this completely useless novelty fluffball that I purchased x amount of John Smith's bitter and was duly rewarded with my 'free' miniature football stuffed with fluff. At the time I did not like John Smith's bitter, or any bitter at all for that matter, but that seemed irrelevant. The reward of the 'free' miniature football stuffed with fluff was worth me enduring x amount of John Smith's bitter. After x amount of John Smith's bitter and a quick kickabout in the pub car park with my 'free' miniature football stuffed with fluff I went back into the pub, and although I already had my 'free' miniature football stuffed with fluff I ordered another John Smith's; completely by accident I had acquired the taste. Perhaps some tastes are acquired as a means of seeking reward. Perhaps people force themselves to like something because, in the end, it will pay off and offer a reward that outweighs the effort of the process of taste acquisition. The 'free' miniature football stuffed with fluff lasted no more than a few hours before it was no longer stuffed with fluff and ended up left lying dead in a pub car park with its fluff spilt from its seams like a squashed spherical banana.
Who is the typical mustard consumer? I have no idea. Do I want to be like that person. No? I've no idea who they are. Is there some reward that I can gain from eating lots of mustard? Not that I know of (but if I'm wrong then please tell me and I shall make haste to collect this reward). So why did I continue to force the stuff into my mouth, even through the pain of it somehow getting inside my nose and making me cry in public. Why?
Now I'm no scientist, but a wild speculation could be that there is an evolutionary trick going on here. Is it possible that our bodies could make us grow accustomed to food simply because it makes sense for us to enjoy as many different foods as possible, so that we refuse less? In times of scarcity and famine you would be daft to turn down food on the grounds that you didn't like it. In essence: beggars can't be choosers. Perhaps the biological human is simply a beggar who would rather learn to love food that it didn't immediately like than starve. Who could blame it?
So is my new love of mustard due to an evolutionary mechanism? Could well be. But still no famine, evolutionary mechanism, reward or cultural ideal will get me near a courgette. Fuck that.
Heard that before? Today I realised that, after 24 years of hating mustard, I actually like the stuff. Yellow to the eye, sharp, spicy and pungent to taste and smell, it never had much of an appeal. You only need to type 'mustard gas' into Google to see how nasty the stuff can be, although for a long time it had seemed to me like throwing it at people you really didn't like was the only 'good use' for it. For some reason, though, over the past couple of months, I have been gradually forcing myself to try more and more mustard in my food. The first few times I tried it I experienced the same old reaction; disgust. But I couldn't resist trying it again, and again, and again. Now I can't eat a ham sandwich without the disgusting stuff. I love it. I still hate it, but I love it.
My inexplicable decision to learn to love mustard has got me wondering about 'acquired tastes', a term described by an on-line dictionary as referring to a taste that is "unpleasant on immediate experience or is likeable only after being experienced repeatedly".... it seems to defy all logic that something which gives an "unpleasant immediate experience" should ever be "experienced repeatedly", especially by choice. But here I am, right now, munching on a ham sandwich smeared with my new favourite yellow condiment. It's an interesting question, why would anyone ever force a disgusting food upon themselves until they eventually liked it? Maybe punching myself in the face is an acquired taste (and I do know people who like things like that), but I doubt the process of acquiring the taste is worth the eventual enjoyment that I might get from punching myself in the face. But why is mustard, and other similar 'acquired tastes', so different that we would choose to repeatedly endure something unpleasant until we actually enjoyed it?
Part of me thinks back to my first taste of beer. My dad offered a sip of his pint of lager to an initially excited young me when we were on holiday, and I remember thinking that I'd rather stick to my coca cola. Nowadays a cold pint can be the ultimate refreshment on a hot summers day, or after a long hard day of work (not that I've known many of them since returning to university). Obviously at some point I decided that it was worth making myself like it. I'm instantly excluding alcoholism as a reason for this, a small sip of lager at a tender young age could hardly have kick started an addiction for someone like myself, with a not-very-addictive personality. In this case there is one major factor I can think of which pushed me into the process of taste acquisition; the appeal of masculinity. Although I can only speak for myself, I assume that for most male teenagers becoming an adult man is goal number one, and liking beer is one of the features that we have been told by our culture to make a 'real man'. Perhaps one of the reasons for acquiring certain tastes is the association that those tastes, or the objects of those tastes, have with certain ideals in our society. By associating ourselves with the tastes associated with certain ideals, do we feel closer to those ideals?
Another beer-related example (maybe I was wrong about my not-very-addictive personality). Remembering back to Euro 2004 and a 17 year old me sat in the pub watching the England football team embarrass themselves (as has been an ever-present feature of England football match I've ever watched). I was blessed with the ability to grow facial hair at a fairly young age, otherwise I might not have been there, little did the bar staff know/care about my true age. Anyway, there was a promotion on at the bar. If you purchased x amount of John Smith's bitter then you were rewarded with a 'free' miniature football stuffed with fluff. Such was the appeal of this completely useless novelty fluffball that I purchased x amount of John Smith's bitter and was duly rewarded with my 'free' miniature football stuffed with fluff. At the time I did not like John Smith's bitter, or any bitter at all for that matter, but that seemed irrelevant. The reward of the 'free' miniature football stuffed with fluff was worth me enduring x amount of John Smith's bitter. After x amount of John Smith's bitter and a quick kickabout in the pub car park with my 'free' miniature football stuffed with fluff I went back into the pub, and although I already had my 'free' miniature football stuffed with fluff I ordered another John Smith's; completely by accident I had acquired the taste. Perhaps some tastes are acquired as a means of seeking reward. Perhaps people force themselves to like something because, in the end, it will pay off and offer a reward that outweighs the effort of the process of taste acquisition. The 'free' miniature football stuffed with fluff lasted no more than a few hours before it was no longer stuffed with fluff and ended up left lying dead in a pub car park with its fluff spilt from its seams like a squashed spherical banana.
Who is the typical mustard consumer? I have no idea. Do I want to be like that person. No? I've no idea who they are. Is there some reward that I can gain from eating lots of mustard? Not that I know of (but if I'm wrong then please tell me and I shall make haste to collect this reward). So why did I continue to force the stuff into my mouth, even through the pain of it somehow getting inside my nose and making me cry in public. Why?
Now I'm no scientist, but a wild speculation could be that there is an evolutionary trick going on here. Is it possible that our bodies could make us grow accustomed to food simply because it makes sense for us to enjoy as many different foods as possible, so that we refuse less? In times of scarcity and famine you would be daft to turn down food on the grounds that you didn't like it. In essence: beggars can't be choosers. Perhaps the biological human is simply a beggar who would rather learn to love food that it didn't immediately like than starve. Who could blame it?
So is my new love of mustard due to an evolutionary mechanism? Could well be. But still no famine, evolutionary mechanism, reward or cultural ideal will get me near a courgette. Fuck that.
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