On the Subject of Food
“In periods of scarcity, absorption and assimilation are the order of the day. In periods of abundance, rejection and expulsion are the chief concerns” — Baudrillard
Toasted nuts, roasted joints, rich stews, buttered greens, starchy carbs, doughy pastries, seeded breads, winey reductions, crispy fats, smoked fish, cured meats, pucker-inducing pickles, crystal-clear consommés, syrupy puddings, peppy little herbs, silken gravies, tangy fruits, hard cheeses, soft cheeses, crisp spring vegetables, dense winter vegetables, savoury custards, fried offal, delicate shellfish, fluffy potatoes, marrow-packed bones, fermented anythings. We slurp, sip, chew, munch, crunch, scoff, suck, wolf the juicy, ripe, salty, succulent, plump, moist above.
These words reduce us to simple subjects, slavering, because of the things and actions they describe. Even in an age of intermittent fasting and uninspiring ‘superfood’ shakes, our love to eat remains at a minimum unspoilt, at a maximum, emboldened. And an explanation for this, and a straightforward one at that, is available; an explanation that spells out not just our love to eat but also why certain foodstuffs are more attractive, more crave-worthy, than others.
Roughly stated, the things which foods contain — the sugars, the electrolytes, the nutrients, the proteins, the fats — are required for us to do absolutely anything, from the upper echelons of cognition to mindlessly suffering cold weather or treks up flights of stairs. The drive towards sustenance (and towards some foods chiefly) is a function which at core is evolutionary. The maw and its eternal hunger is anchored by biology.
In times of scarcity, a little portion of protein, a globule of nectar rich in sugar, or a fraction more blubber could well have been the singular deciding factor in whether an ancient ancestor of ours departed that day this mortal coil, or had enough energy to survive and to do it all again. Ur-humans which consumed (or sought out) with greater glee and enthusiasm these kinds of nutrient rich foods were, overall, the ones most likely to endure the hardships of the natural world, and — given that survival is a necessary precondition for copulation — the most likely to have their equally hungry genes continue ever present in the flesh and blood of thir offspring.
Accordingly, it is part of our heritage that we too, descendants of not just survivors but particularly glutinous ones, should relish foods of certain types. The reason traits like these are still a relevant part of our (modern) genetic makeup is due to two things. Firstly, because it takes thousands and thousands of years for lasting and significant genetic change to occur among a species. Secondly, until incredibly recently (at least on this evolutionary timescale, anyway), these chunks of fats and slithers of glucose were just as savoured and rare — just as essential to our survival.
Whether due to famines, droughts, wars, technological crudeness, agricultural inefficiencies, or a blend of the aforementioned, nutirition-rich foods like those detailed above (or even just foods in general) were not, within living memory, something to be taken for granted or passed over.
But at least from a perspective which is unashamedly first-world things looked to have changed. Woah woah, this really is not to say that all those within first-world countries are sufficiently nourished. Millions of individuals still find feeding themselves — and feeding themselves adequately — a struggle.
However on the whole (that is to say, when looked at with an objective and arguably cold eye) for a great many within these nations the use of calorie-dense foodstuffs has (again, I stress, recently) started to shift from a thing necessary for the most basic of existences, and instead moved into a domain which is more familiar with things like luxury, indulgence, and enjoyment.
And whilst the phrasing at the end of that last paragraph might smack one as being intuitively positive, the combination of material abundance and a proclivity towards calories warrants our attention and concern.
If we are pre-programmed to seek out and to consume fatty and sugary foods, and if our programming is no longer as necessary (but nevertheless fully ingrained into our being) then what exactly comes from this, when abundance is abundant? The results are both proven and visible: overeating and obesity (40% of North American adults make the grade), a myriad of other eating disorders, ideological disregard for physical activity and fitness, and, of course, the insane economic burden accompanying treatment and healthcare. Our genetic conditioning, apparently, is our own worst enemy once life gets easier. So, where from here? How best to tackle the dangerous duo of this drive and our lack of need for it?
The answer is presumably not to re-unbalance our problematic scales by making life more arduous, by creating an environment where the intake of any available fats and proteins and sugars becomes, once again, just as essential as it was at other points in human history. Such a return to the state of nature — if such a thing is possible sans nuclear holocaust — seems fraught with many, many (valid) socio-economic, logistical, and ethical issues.
It’s clear that we must approach the problem from the other possible angle, to begin, however it is possible to do so, to modify (or more appropriately satisfy) our initial animal impulses towards gorging ourselves silly, or, to at least modify the objects (i.e. foodstuffs) which we (and our impulses) constantly have on our relevant radars.
In a moderately ironic twist (rather than one of lemon peel) food itself may hold the key to fulfilling, inportantly in less damaging ways, our in-built attraction to it.
Nutritional science (and its arguably sexier cousin, gastronomy) is now more politely and accurately considered a biochemical field in its own right. With a greater knowledge of how the compounds and chemicals composing foods are made (and what our reaction to them is likely to be) it’s easier to create ingredients and meals which satisfy the primal whilst remaining healthier, overall.
Aspartame (no, it doesn’t give you cancer) is a notable example of what it is I’m referring to. It provides the sweetness in our ‘diet’ fizzy drinks and low-sugar confectionary, sating that craving for glucose without us having to ingest all of the sugars which we would normally. Now, obviously sugar-free foodstuffs aren’t providing us with the — you guessed it, clever sod — sugars that are essential for daily functioning, but the worry detailed above is premised on the fact that we already get this form of sustenance in our diets — it’s the excess which is harmful and needs modifying.
Proteins are subject to wizardry too. The growing refinement of plant-based ‘meats’ (as well as a potential future of 3D printing these pseudo-meats in ways which texturally resemble the real thing(s)) and lab grown proteins (although these have their own ethical quandaries as luggage) provides the delivery of carnivorous moments for those who are so inclined — offering up protein and comparable eating experiences without some of the (usual) associated saturated fats and cholesterol.
Or maybe a solution lies in the type of problem we have diagnosed. If the compulsions which occur occur, in some sense, at a pre-rational level, then the regulation of our drives might be best achieved not via the tools of discourse and rationality, but instead through clever psychological prompting and ‘nudges’ — alterations in our environment which mean we gravitate, somewhat unconsciously, towards X rather than Y.
Some of the more notable types of obesity-tackling nudges include increasing rates of selection by placing healthier foods at eyeline-level, and the use of smaller plates and serving utensils to distort perceptions of portion size (and individual fullness). Though nudges don’t, by definition, eliminate unhealthy options (they just prompt us towards selecting better ones) and those with vested interests in keeping us hungry and fat are more than capable of nudging (or knocking) back.
But what about stricter interventions, the sort which place more emphasis on the availability of food items themselves, rather than attempts to modify or appease our desires for them? After all, ourselves — our bodies, replicated structures of prototypes ancient, all carrying the trace of the past, a last bastion for the troglodyte mindset, are often so stubborn, so resistant to change or nudges (literal and metaphorical) in the right direction, that prohibition might appear a plausible avenue.
To phrase it most succintly and bluntly: if we can’t be trusted around something then maybe that something needs to be taken away. This isn’t to insinuate that ownership of crisps should be a matter for a police state, yet limiting manufacturers in the products they can legally produce or placing additional taxes on some supermarket goods (or stripping shelves of them completely) are measures which could bring about notable outcomes. But then, inevitably, to think like this naturally opens up debate around food-related liberties and a myriad of other topics, other ‘things’ which might be better under lock and key, out of reach and out of sight if not out of mind.
Hardcore pornography, for one. Is the human (and especially adolescent) brain sophisticated enough to indulge in watching violent or subversive sexual material without it turning grey matter into a pool of sludge and depravity? Nuclear weapons and guns (or, at least, the semi-automatic variety) also fit neatly as subjects into these types of ‘should we just get rid’ questions. After all, can we animals with an undeniable and innate tendency for violence and domination be trusted — given the finite nature of the planet’s resources and the forever competing spirit of geo (and local) politics — with instruments that can wreak destruction instantaneously and on all scales imaginable?
Despite these concerns and despite the (I admit) scattershot personality of these potential solutions, it would be a comforting and optimistic thought (for who doesn’t like to end on those) that we could tackle the shoddier facets of our physiological heritage without the need to begin an outlawing process (at least in the case of shitty foods) or to necessitate a stoic asceticism (which is most likely implausible and thereby ineffective) across entire bodies of the populace, especially when it comes to something which is so universally cherished — eating.
If we are animals designed to seek pleasures and avoid pains (and it’s not really an ‘if’, given that this duality is so readily perceived in our current quagmire of obesity and brittle restraint) it would be optimal to preserve some of these pleasures — and our capacities for them — than to exist in a state of limbo, of constancy, of tones only grey. To skirt round total “rejection” and total “expulsion”.
Not to allow hedonism and enjoyment to be something completely unfettered, but rather tempered, (perhaps) even somewhat watered-down, and pointed in healthier and nonetheless satisfying direction(s) with the assistance of the earlier mentioned tools of psychology and clever cooking, is the position I consider able to harmonise pleasure and liberty in the long-run — it’s the one I lean towards most naturally. The issue, again, becomes how this can best, or possibly, be done in detail and practice.
