Sunday, February 13, 2011

Conscious Eating Essay

My former boss, Tim Peek, is one of the most visionary people I know.  We've had many conversations about living consciously and how this helps improve life on a personal and professional level.  Being the foodie that I am, he encouraged me to write an essay about what we discussed as "conscious eating."

Here it is:

Conscious Eating



            “As for flavorsome and solid bodies, the teeth must cut them up, saliva and the other taste fluids must soak them, and the tongue must roll them against the palate so that they exude a juice which, by now sufficiently sapid, is appreciated by the taste buds which in turn give to the mashed food that passport it needs to be admitted to the human stomach.”
                            -Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, The Physiology of Taste


We’ve all had the moment when conversation—even the most compelling discussion—is abruptly halted by an “Mmm” or a jumbled mouthful declaration, “Oh ma gawd.”  A bite of something that has refocused our attention to the present and has inspired us to express a truth in that moment: I am experiencing a damn delicious morsel of food.

In the case of what I’ll call conscious eating, food can be a tool to shift gears from the cerebral demands of the day.  It can help us drop those burdened thoughts that twirl relentlessly in our minds by attending to a specific sensation. I suggest that the next bite you take, if taken consciously, can help you feel life in the present moment and therefore, in a more broad and significant way, help you experience life to the fullest.

It’s easy to be distracted by what food has become; it’s Food with a capital F.  It has become entertainment, from Iron Chef to The Biggest Loser.  It is both lauded and vilified. In the past decade, Food has morphed into a national obsession, representing the best of human talents and the most detrimental of human faults and addictions. Reign in your associations with celebrity chefs and the McDonalds $1 menu, but think beyond simple bodily sustenance, and somewhere in that balance you will find that food offers us a unique opportunity to live in the moment and to appreciate.

Food naturally offers itself for this living consciously because, firstly, eating is a universal practice, and secondly, it is entirely guilt-free (in moderation) yet can be intensely pleasurable. Sara Murray Jordan, a gastroenterologist and food writer, said, “He who does not mind his belly will hardly mind anything else.”
        
Yet, I could not count how many meals I have absent-mindedly scarfed down while fretting about some past or future occurrence that stressed me out.  I would have hardly noticed that the mozzarella in my panini (for instance) was stunningly fresh and perfectly melted.  Instead, my increasing anxiety would work my shoulders all the way up to my ears, I would look down at my plate, see the reminiscent crumbs, and feel full, but not satisfied.  I bet you can relate.  Think about lunch at the office: How can you appreciate that sweet/tangy combination of your Tomato Basil soup when you are toggling between work email, personal email, two spreadsheets, and five websites?

If you’re on board with me, then let me offer you some tips.  It helps to be sitting upright while you eat, which facilitates breath and therefore helps you relieve some of that tension that builds up throughout the day.  Take in a deep, gratifying breath of the food’s aroma before, during, and after each bite.  Here’s the tricky part: try not to think too hard about eating consciously. Over-analyzing each fork-full is just as detrimental as ignoring it.  The goal is to savor it without making it a mental exercise.  A tactic for those of you who find it hard to disengage in this way is to approach it with a sense of curiosity, “Hmm, I wonder how my body will respond to this taste?”  It’s rejuvenating to submit yourself to current senses.

I propose this:  let’s all take one bite at a time, and enjoy it!  Sometimes, as people who are complex, intricate, and emotional, we need to get out of our own way.

Eat your cake and have it, too. 

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Dippin Dots: The Philosophy



Yesterday my co-worker looked up from her desk and said, "You know when you have a whole spoonful of Dippin' Dots and it's really satisfying, but if you just have one it's not that exciting? I just had a moment like that: it's like I just had one Dippin' Dot."  She was referring to some work-related mini-triumph that resulted in an anti-climax (can I use more hyphens in this sentence?), which many of us experience daily.  But it got me thinking:

Dippin Dots is so much more than just ice cream, it's a philosophy!  A philosophy of satisfaction.  

I see two key take-aways from la philosophie de Dippin' Dots:

1.  When you really want to feel satisfaction, you have to go for it whole-heartedly, in a significant way.  The go big or go home sentiment.

2.  It suggests that we have to know what we really want to be satisfied.  A spoonful of Dippin' Dots is satisfying because it quickly becomes the consistency of regular ice cream.  Before that, it's just a unique, innovative means to an end.  When we eat those little frozen orbs of dairy and sugar, what we really want is just ice cream.  Good ol' fashioned, predictable ice cream.  Therefore, one little Dippin' Dot, when popped into your mouth, is just a melted Dippin' Dot.  In such a small quantity, it's hardly ice cream.   So why beat around the bush with an ice cream wannabe?  Skip it and just go for Ben & Jerrys.

....but now I'm craving Dippin' Dots.  So maybe I'm full of sh*t.

Monday, January 17, 2011

The Invisible Dog



In New York City, you are never entirely sure what you'll see behind a door or through a window.  For a pedestrian, surprises populate even the most routine of routes: from home to the subway.  Real estate here has an elastic tendency, with abandoned buildings or lots next to the most trendy restaurant in the neighborhood.  Several months later that space will be occupied by anything from a pet store to a massage parlor to a coffee shop.  Often, due to the high cost of rent, that business will close and leave the space a ghost of what it tried to be.

This weekend I met my friend in Boerum Hill, Brooklyn for coffee.  On our way to caffeinate, we walked past a building with a sign in front that read, "The Invisible Dog."  My friend lives in the neighborhood had been there before and suggested that we pop in: it's an art gallery!  Left to my own devices, I would have never thought to go in, briskly walking past it without even noticing its beautiful, historic wooden doors.

The gallery was enjoyable and interesting, with a photography exhibit in the basement and an installation called "(Naked) Absence -- (Blinging) Presence...(Dis) Appearances" on the first floor (the photo above, taken on my iPhone, shows part of this installation  It was a dark smoke-filled room with the only light shining directly on a plastic life-size naked man.  There was surround-sound music that resembled a beating heart.)

For me, the building itself, an old factory that lay abandoned for many years, was the most intriguing part of the gallery, although it only offered a backdrop to the art it housed.  On the The Invisible Dog Art Gallery website, the history of 51 Bergen Street is described as the building that manufactured the invisible dog trick: a stiff leash and collar surrounding the empty space where a dog would be.  This gimmick struck gold in the 1970s.  The website recounts, "A mixture of party-hearty silliness and tongue-in-cheek trompe l’oeil, the [invisible dog] trick became an icon of its era. But eventually public taste moved on; meanwhile, over the years, the Brooklyn neighborhood was changing. The factory closed its doors in the late 1990s; the boarded-up building was a blight on its quiet Brooklyn block."  As an homage to the building's history, they sell invisible dog leashes in the gallery.  


You never know what is behind a door, or what you'll see if you turn to look in a window (hopefully it's not a fresh-out-of-the-shower toweled neighbor, as I did this morning, across my apartment courtyard.  Pull your curtains down, please!).  Here's a quote that resonated with me, from The Invisible Dog's website:


One of the most complex and crucial questions of twenty-first century culture is how to preserve history while simultaneously making way for the new. Nowhere is this dilemma more peaked than in New York, where constant motion and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it change have long dominated the ethos. But today New Yorkers are increasingly aware of the value of preservation, of both the natural world, our city’s legacy, and our communities. Recent civic projects like the High Line signal a subtle but undeniable shift in New York culture: now, repurposing already-existing architecture seems more of the moment than does anything brand new. Call it gentrification backlash, call it environmentalism, call it recession chic, but its effects are palpable, and sometimes, startlingly touching.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Food Photography: My Latest Serious Eats Article


Doesn't this picture make your mouth water?  It does mine.  Did this lucky photographer get to eat the food after the picture was taken?  Click here for my latest article on Serious Eats, about food photographer Robert Caplin.

Monday, February 22, 2010

How Much Do You Know About Chocolate Chip Cookies?

My reign as Quizmaster for Serious Eats continues!  (I write a new quiz for them weekly, posted on Mondays).  Today's quiz was How Much Do You Know About Chocolate Chip Cookies?

Be forewarned: taking this quiz may make you crave a cookie hardcore.

Take it here!

 Photo courtesy of Robyn Lee @ Serious Eats

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Sixpoint Craft Ales Fifth Anniversary Celebration at Roberta's Pizzeria



Last night I went to Sixpoint's 5th Anniversary Celebration at Roberta's in Bushwick, Brooklyn.  Unlimited Sixpoint brews and unlimited Roberta's pizza, straight out of that glowing, magical pizza oven at the front of the restaurant?  Yes, please!  Read my review of the event for Serious Eats here.