2210: Live to Eat

“Some people eat to live, while others live to eat. What about you? How far would you travel for the best meal of your life?”

The Daily Post, February 7, 2016

Some time ago, I wrote about how I’m not a foodie. Things haven’t changed all that much, but I mention this now because it’s relevant to the Daily Post prompt for today.

For me, food is something I very much enjoy — hence my weight problems, to be perfectly frank — but not in the same way as people who really enjoy food enjoy it. No, I’m not one who is keen to have a delicate bouquet of flavours exploding on my tongue as I take a miniscule mouthful of something that looks more like a piece of modern art than an actual meal — I’m someone who likes to have a big ol’ gobful of something that tastes good, and preferably a lot of it. If the thing that tastes good is also reasonably not-awful for you, then so much the better, since if there’s one thing I learned since starting Slimming World, it’s that there are a lot of tasty things out there that you can eat completely guilt-free.

I was particularly conscious of my feelings towards food when Andie and I were watching the recent series of Masterchef: The Professionals. I found the programme a bit tedious, to be honest, because every episode was very similar to the last, and very little of the food actually looked appealing to me. These chefs — who I’m sure are at the very pinnacle of their craft — were taking things that would have been delicious in their most basic forms, then complementing them with bizarre crap like “pea puree” and baffling combinations of herbs and spices. Even on desserts. If there’s one thing I can’t abide, it’s putting weird combinations of herbs and spices on desserts. Rosemary is for lamb in a pinch — though I prefer it without — not cake or ice-cream.

The most peculiar thing I think I’ve eaten and actually enjoyed was when my friend Tim — who emphatically is a foodie; you can tell this by the fact he has a favourite truffle oil — made a Heston Blumenthal (I think) bacon ice-cream for us to enjoy one evening. I wasn’t entirely convinced that this was going to be nice when it was first posited, but then I thought about it — and thought about how nice bacon is with sweet things like maple syrup and pancakes — and realised it might not be that bad. And indeed it wasn’t that bad at all — indeed, I’d go so far as to say it was genuinely nice. Would I have it in preference to a nice bowl of Cornish vanilla slathered in chocolate, caramel or strawberry stickies, though? Of course not.

So in answer to the question above, then — how far would I go for the best meal of my life? — I guess I would have to say “the kitchen”. Or, at a push, “the pub” or “Tesco”. Because although I enjoy my food, I can’t say it’s something I seek a life-changing experience from. And I know from experience that no amount of Michelin Star-winning chefs will make me enjoy nouvelle cuisine or whatever you’re supposed to call that bollocks now; give me a nice hearty chilli, or a lump of pork with some nice potatoes, or a rack of lamb, or anything that just makes you feel full and happy to eat, and I’ll be satisfied. And you can keep your pea purees.