A few days ago at the restaurant, I was checking up on a dining couple as they were completing their meals. I asked how everything was, to which the woman replied: “I’m still finishing up; sorry!” This is not an uncommon trend; often diners will apologize for eating slowly, or for not being finished by the time I visit.
This led me to ponder the relationship between food and time. There is a considerable degree of urgency in some folks to consume their meals as quickly as possible. If that urgency isn’t overtly evident, it often still manifests in the form of an apology for taking their time. I wondered if there was biological bearing for this tendency; it doesn’t seem unusual to suppose the existence of an inherent impulse in humans to absorb resources as quickly as possible, lest they be taken away. However, it also struck me that food is considered by many to be more of a necessity than an experience. Food is often a chore: something to check off of the lengthy and demanding list of “to do’s”. Hence the multitude of convenience appliances, as well as instant and available, which trim the ordeal of a meal to an efficient and manageable morsel of time.
Never mind the fact that eating quickly actually inhibits healthy digestion, especially if the rushed consumption of the meal is followed by the rushed pursuit (and conquering) of other “to do’s”. If stress is factored into the act of eating, our bodies will not absorb the nutrients as well, and our connection with the food itself will be impoverished through our disassociation with it. We will miss the experience of nourishing ourselves by displacing our awareness too much in our thoughts, and not enough in what truly feeds us. Moreover, we will not feel grateful for the abundance, and even sacrifice with which every bite is invested. Without that, not only our experience, but the very life-force of the food itself, will, somehow, be rendered infertile.
The wealth of food, like time, depends upon our perspectives. If we regard it as scarce, we will devour it, hoard it, consume and burn it up in an attempt to have some kind of security. If we regard it as abundant, we will, perhaps, savor it, knowing that there is always more. When there is more of time, there is no need to rush; when there is more of food, there is no need to hoard. Presence in the moment begets appreciation, and that opens us to receiving fully the gift of our food. A willingness to be present reminds us that taking the time to cherish our food is something for which to thank ourselves, and never, never apologize.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
Close to Home
During the G20, our city was host to intense confrontations and brutality. As the weekend progressed, we all witnessed a shift of focus from the organized dissent against the G20 summit, and the economic irresponsibility of world leaders, to a stand-off between police and Toronto citizens. Thousands of police were bussed in from neighbouring towns to regulate protests and protect the summit. Similarly, protesters from cities all over Canada came to confront the powers-that-be and stand in solidarity with the exploited and the oppressed. It seems as though this conflict was predestined.
In the aftermath of these events, as stories of wrongdoing being to surface, profound questions are being raised about equality, civil rights, and our current institutions of justice. It seems that the injustices of the G20 were made tangible on a local level for all of us here in Toronto. We were faced with the same systematic dehumanization, fear-mongering, and stark hostility as occurs on a grander scale due to the exploitative policies of globalization, industrialization, open market economics bolstered by the G20 players.
What has this experience granted us? In some ways, it felt as though the shift in focus from the G20 summit to the politics of police vs. protester, was a defeat for those whose purpose and presence at the initial protests was to interrogate and expose the intentions and actions of the G20. The confrontations also provoked questions concerning the efficacy of certain forms of activism; what is resistance, and does it merely support that which it seeks to confront? Does confronting this system merely yield greater trauma, unconsciousness, alienation, and suffering?
In some ways, the G20 fiasco catalyzed an urgent revelation for Torontonians, and anyone else in the world who was watching responsible media coverage of the events.
It appears that the instances of police brutality and the outrageous violation of basic principles of human rights helped to mobilize and motivate activism and community dissent at a local level more successfully than the global irresponsibility of the world leaders involved in the G20 did during the actual Summit protests. The palpable sense of injustice and violation in our own back yard brought out citizens who were otherwise unconcerned or uninvolved with the summit protests.
I would argue that local action and community based work is the only way to solve the greater and seemingly insurmountable problems of the global system. As the issues of the macrocosm spiral down into the sphere of our own small communities and homes, we must radiate the change from our communities outward. Perhaps, as well, that change will come without an active opposition of systems of injustice and abuse—which seemingly perpetuate the power of those systems—but in a redefinition, or a turning away from those systems entirely, and towards another system altogether.
In a similar way, I would argue that vegetarianism isn’t a resistance movement, but rather an active withdrawal from the dominant food paradigm. Can we apply this method to our choices and conduct as political entities by choosing to no longer participate?
To quote a former American soldier who recently spoke on the nature of war: “there will only be a war if soldiers are willing to fight.”
In the aftermath of these events, as stories of wrongdoing being to surface, profound questions are being raised about equality, civil rights, and our current institutions of justice. It seems that the injustices of the G20 were made tangible on a local level for all of us here in Toronto. We were faced with the same systematic dehumanization, fear-mongering, and stark hostility as occurs on a grander scale due to the exploitative policies of globalization, industrialization, open market economics bolstered by the G20 players.
What has this experience granted us? In some ways, it felt as though the shift in focus from the G20 summit to the politics of police vs. protester, was a defeat for those whose purpose and presence at the initial protests was to interrogate and expose the intentions and actions of the G20. The confrontations also provoked questions concerning the efficacy of certain forms of activism; what is resistance, and does it merely support that which it seeks to confront? Does confronting this system merely yield greater trauma, unconsciousness, alienation, and suffering?
In some ways, the G20 fiasco catalyzed an urgent revelation for Torontonians, and anyone else in the world who was watching responsible media coverage of the events.
It appears that the instances of police brutality and the outrageous violation of basic principles of human rights helped to mobilize and motivate activism and community dissent at a local level more successfully than the global irresponsibility of the world leaders involved in the G20 did during the actual Summit protests. The palpable sense of injustice and violation in our own back yard brought out citizens who were otherwise unconcerned or uninvolved with the summit protests.
I would argue that local action and community based work is the only way to solve the greater and seemingly insurmountable problems of the global system. As the issues of the macrocosm spiral down into the sphere of our own small communities and homes, we must radiate the change from our communities outward. Perhaps, as well, that change will come without an active opposition of systems of injustice and abuse—which seemingly perpetuate the power of those systems—but in a redefinition, or a turning away from those systems entirely, and towards another system altogether.
In a similar way, I would argue that vegetarianism isn’t a resistance movement, but rather an active withdrawal from the dominant food paradigm. Can we apply this method to our choices and conduct as political entities by choosing to no longer participate?
To quote a former American soldier who recently spoke on the nature of war: “there will only be a war if soldiers are willing to fight.”
Thursday, July 1, 2010
The Nature of Flavour
At our restaurant, we entertain a very broad spectrum of customers, with varying tastes and preferences. One concept that is particularly of interest (and pertinence) to us, is that of "flavour." What defines a dish as "flavourful," or, conversely, as "bland"? To what extent do our values, environment, and general conditioning inform our perspectives on the taste of food?
Toronto is a metropolis teeming with noise, light, traffic and culture. With the abundance of light and sound pollution, we are indeed strangers to silence and darkness. Arguably, this is so for our other senses; our bodies are bombarded with a spectrum of industrial pollutants which fundamentally change the way we experience with our senses. The way we taste is thus shaped by the very air we breathe.
Moreover, western culture invests flavour with paramount importance. Perhaps due to the fact that we are generally overstimulated, and that our palates are to some extent dulled by environmental factors, we are seeking a greater degree of stimulus. The trend of quantity over quality seems to apply to the taste of our food as well as the size of the portion.
Foods that are salty, fatty, or sweet tend to be desirable to the human palate. From a biological standpoint, that is because natural foods exhibiting these qualities are highly valued by our bodies, and are rarely occurring in nature. So the impulse is to take advantage of these commodities while they are available.
However, if you ask anyone who is on a dietary cleanse, they will tell you that they are intensely more stimulating than usual. Their palates tend to be more sensitive to the subtler flavour of raw veggies and fruit, or unflavoured and unsweetened whole foods.
Hence, the pursuit of flavour is not so much in the potency of the seasoning, but in the purity of the palate. Think about what new sounds one might distinguish in the silence of a forest. Just as "beauty is in the eye of the beholder," so "taste is in the tongue of the taster."
Toronto is a metropolis teeming with noise, light, traffic and culture. With the abundance of light and sound pollution, we are indeed strangers to silence and darkness. Arguably, this is so for our other senses; our bodies are bombarded with a spectrum of industrial pollutants which fundamentally change the way we experience with our senses. The way we taste is thus shaped by the very air we breathe.
Moreover, western culture invests flavour with paramount importance. Perhaps due to the fact that we are generally overstimulated, and that our palates are to some extent dulled by environmental factors, we are seeking a greater degree of stimulus. The trend of quantity over quality seems to apply to the taste of our food as well as the size of the portion.
Foods that are salty, fatty, or sweet tend to be desirable to the human palate. From a biological standpoint, that is because natural foods exhibiting these qualities are highly valued by our bodies, and are rarely occurring in nature. So the impulse is to take advantage of these commodities while they are available.
However, if you ask anyone who is on a dietary cleanse, they will tell you that they are intensely more stimulating than usual. Their palates tend to be more sensitive to the subtler flavour of raw veggies and fruit, or unflavoured and unsweetened whole foods.
Hence, the pursuit of flavour is not so much in the potency of the seasoning, but in the purity of the palate. Think about what new sounds one might distinguish in the silence of a forest. Just as "beauty is in the eye of the beholder," so "taste is in the tongue of the taster."
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