By Andrea Holland
It aggravates me when people use certain words to describe the taste of their food. “It has a buttery texture,” many often say. When was the last time these people ate a stick of butter? Or, when they dismissively say things like, “Oh, tofu tastes like chicken.” Nope. Tofu tastes like tofu; chicken tastes like chicken. And besides, tofus don’t have wings or feathers; they’re skinless and drink a lot of water to keep their skins silky. Everyone knows that. And I’m sorry, but wines and peas don’t have a “nutty flavor.” Only nuts taste like nuts.
I should point out that I have a very developed food palate. I’m down to grub – and typically do – anything from a rare alligator andouille sausage to carrot cake. It slays me a bit when people drone on and on trying to compare the taste of one thing to something completely unrelated. It also bores me when people rave about the freshness of food. They’ll come from the latest restaurant singing the praises of the menu. “Everything was so fresh and bright,” they scream. What the hell does that mean? Was the last salad they paid for not fresh? Was it obviously old or rancid? If so, why the hell did they pay for it – much less eat it?
Now there’s even a magazine for these people; it’s called “Clean Eating”. As opposed to what…dirty eating? There is something to be said for getting back to the realities of the tastes and origins of our food. Apples don’t always grow perfectly round and red; baby carrots aren’t really baby carrots (they’re actually shaved and tumbled bits from the reject pile) and yes – cheese is a big pile of delicious mold! It’s perfectly okay to admit that you like tuna from the can or that you’ll only eat romaine lettuce, not radicchio.
Let’s all start being honest about our food. Let’s leave the taste sales speeches to the marketing gods at Nabisco and the executive chefs across the world. Let’s love our food for exactly what it is. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a piping hot bowl of shells and crème de frommage to enjoy. Bon appétit.
