What Are Your Food Values?
A part two to last week's essay
Last week I wrote about slow food versus fast food culture, a topic near and dear to my heart. I touched on my food values and having an idea of what they are. But I hadn’t, until reading this book, thought to try putting a name to them.
So I decided to ask myself, what are my food values?
Flavor
I ended my last essay suggesting that flavor is a food value of mine, so I figured I’d start here. Flavor is at the root of everything when it comes to food, in my opinion. I believe eating is a sensory experience and one of the simple pleasures of life, so if I’ve got to feed myself everyday, why not enjoy it as best I can?
Vegan cookbook author and food blogger Nisha Vora holds the philosophy that eating vegan needn’t be a bland lifestyle for your tastebuds. The entire thesis of her Big Vegan Flavor cookbook is that you can eat an animal-free diet and still infuse a lot of flavor by nature of sauces, spices, etc. Like Nisha, I abide by the flavor philosophy—while not vegan myself, I believe a good sauce or garnish such as freshly chopped herbs or nuts (the je ne sais quoi, as I like to call it) makes a dish. It’s even better when the main ingredient in that dish is local, in-season produce.
Recently I ate mint ice cream at Lovely’s Fifty Fifty, a Portland farm-to-table pizzeria featured on Chef's Table. It was the first time in my life I had mint ice cream that tasted like the actual herb versus manufactured mint flavor. It was jarring at first, my brain’s initial reaction asking what is this? I almost didn’t like it, until my mind reconciled what it was I was tasting. Like the mint garnishing a mint julep, sprinkled on turmeric chickpea soup, or mixed in a fresh greens salad, it was a refreshing kick.
Our brains have been programmed by fast food culture to expect a certain taste for things. So much so that often times, we don't even know what the true taste of that food is, having been fooled by the imitation version our whole lives.
Growing up, I never liked cherries. The only cherry I tried was a maraschino cherry atop a sundae, plus cherry-flavored candy and medicine. Thinking I didn't like cherries as a result, I refused any cherry desserts as I grew older. Then I tried my first, freshly picked Rainier cherry. I couldn’t believe this is what cherries tasted like—they were delicious!
Flavor fools us if we aren't careful to keep an open mind and expose ourself to different forms of foods.
Curiosity & Open-Mindedness
If flavor is at the root of my food values, curiosity would be the stem. As a kid, I was a fairly picky eater. We stuck to pretty routine meals in our house and didn’t get much exposure to different cuisines, nor ingredients. This resulted in me being pretty set in my ways.
It wasn't until I entered my early adulthood that I began venturing out of my narrow food landscape. I tried sushi for the first time, curry, real ramen, fresh bleu cheese, Brussel sprouts, you name it.
Today I would never call myself a picky eater. I love trying new foods or new-to-me flavor combinations (I recently heard about tuna on pizza—does it sound weird? Maybe. Would I try it? Yes!). I live by the philosophy of don’t knock it until you try it. And, if I decided I don’t like a certain food but it's been years since I’ve had it, I will encourage myself to try it again to see if my taste buds have changed. Such is the case with pad Thai. I remember thinking it was weird the first time I had it, but when I finally ordered it again, I liked it just fine.
Having witnessed firsthand that tastebuds change—I increased my tolerance for spicy foods by exposing myself to slightly higher spice levels over time—I firmly believe in keeping an open mind and remaining curious. (This is a pretty good philosophy for living life in general, but we'll stick to food here.)
Home-Cooking > Dining Out
A self-proclaimed foodie, I love a good dining experience or trying new spots in town. And exploring the food scene is one of my absolute favorite parts of traveling. But in my day-to-day life, I strive for keeping the majority of my meals homemade.
While this initially started for budgetary reasons (bringing lunch to work everyday saves a lot of money in the long run), I’ve sustained this habit over the years because I know exactly where my food is coming from. And these days I find that what I can make at home is a heck of a lot better than what I can buy at work. It's more filling and more flavorful. Plus I feel better physically after eating it.
That said, Portland has a plethora of quality food options, so when I do go out, it’s a treat. This is one area where I’ve become strict enough with myself that I could probably learn to relax sometimes, but alas—knowing I have a stocked pantry and fridge makes me feel a lot calmer as I enter a new work week.
The best part of cooking at home is that I’ve learned a lot over the years. As someone who used to only be able to painstakingly cook from recipes alone, my self-reliance has skyrocketed. I can confidently throw together a meal from whatever’s about to go bad in the fridge or make up a salad on the spot. And as my confidence in the kitchen builds, I'm excited and willing to try more new things. (Baking my first cake a couple years ago is a prime example.)
Oh and when it comes to baking - I’m my mother’s daughter and firmly believe that homemade baked goods are always better than store-bought. Unless it’s brownies.
Seasonality & Interconnectedness
This is probably one of my most recently developed food values. I’ve talked about it a lot here on The Conscious Consumer (food is one area where I hope to inspire more conscious thinking and reflection). The TLDR; is - it’s important to me to know what produce is in season, particularly in the PNW, and try to center my home-cooked meals around that as much as I can.
I find that when I eat in-season produce, it not only tastes better, it also keeps me present. I’m more in tune with the rhythms of nature, and pay more attention to my surroundings. It also gives me something to look forward to. Like my beloved late spring tradition of going strawberry picking on Sauvie Island. It’s something I’ve done for 5 straight years now. Sometimes with friends, but usually by myself. It's my way of welcoming in the season and reminding myself how it feels to be surrounded by farmland, harvesting one’s food, a job of so many that we often take for granted.
One of the beautiful things about globalization is the ability to share flavors from all around the world. Coffee, spices, and chocolate—some of my favorite things—wouldn’t exist in the States if it weren't for importing. However, when it comes to foods that can be sourced nearby (it's a lot more than you think!), my preference is local.
While I aspire to live like Barbara Kingsolver’s family who only eat what is grown or raised within a ~100-mile radius of them, I have to find my own way. What I ultimately value is knowing where my food comes from and limiting my carbon footprint as much as I can by choosing foods that are locally grown. This puts the money back into my community, supporting both my neighbors and protecting their farmland, and keeps these options alive for us all.
The way I’ve started thinking of it is that for those foods I can’t get locally, get them as ethically sourced as I can. (A great example of this is Diaspora for South Asian spices.) Carlo Petrini, the founder of the slow food movement, calls this “virtuous globalization.”
Present Gathering
When I first started to list my food values, I was thinking of the food itself. But I think it’s important we don't discount the experience around food, because the two are symbiotic. You can’t eat food with experiencing it. Even shortcut solutions like a protein shake or Soylent don't remove the experience. You are still experiencing it in some way. So you might as well make it as enjoyable as possible.
My favorite way to do so is by gathering with friends or family and being present with one another. I grew up in a household where we ate dinner together at the table every night. My mom, my dad, my brother and me. It wasn't a forced “rule” like I know some families try to enforce. Rather, it was simply a habit, a ritual, that had been ingrained in us for so long that it felt unnatural to do otherwise. My mom wrote a beautiful essay about this that expresses the sentiment better than I can.
My partner and I make it a point to do this with each other fairly often too. We try to catch ourselves when we’re in a cycle of eating dinner while watching TV, because let's be real, sometimes you’re tired at the end of a long work day and don't have the energy to carry out conversation. However, it's still incredibly important to sustaining a relationship so this is something we’re mindful of. Most of our meaningful conversations—happy and challenging—have happened at the dining table.
The older I get, the more I crave sharing meals with friends in the cozy confines of someone’s home. It feels so much more nurturing than dining at a restaurant. When you cross the threshold of someone’s home, you automatically enter a new level of intimacy.
It needn’t even be people you know well for this transformation to happen. The cookbook club I’m part of is a great example of this. When we first came together, a lot of us were total strangers, and given that we all see each other less than a dozen times a year, we're still getting to know one another. Yet, there’s a level of intimacy and connection at these dinners that I sometimes don't even feel with people I've hung out with countless times. I believe this is because we all have a shared reason for gathering—a love for making and eating food.
This is by no means an exhaustive list, yet I believe it captures the essence of my food values. Now I'd love to hear, what are some of yours?
I love love love this essay, Morganne 💚 I love the intention behind it and how that intention fuels your relationship with food. I've been trying to cook at home as well, but I still don't feel it tastes as good as it could. You're inspiring me to keep trying!