Thursday, 28 April 2011

• Surprise! I Have a Fetish

  
  

  Fetishes: I never thought I had one.

  But I've encountered a few along the way. I had a boyfriend once who salivated whenever I wore stilettos. He would look at me, hungry from across the dinner table; ravenous when the heel was later poised atop his naked chest or throat. Eventually his love of heels developed into a fondness for my feet in general.

  But feet don't do it for me. In fact it is fair to say that I find feet, in particular, to be a fetish-opposite, if that exists, and beyond that I've always felt relatively fetish-free. 

  But food is a long-time love of mine, as the daughter of two incredible cooks. In our family, food is love. I would even argue that food is the best and most stimulating form of art; in addition to pleasuring the eye, nose and tongue, food is unique in that it's also physically nourishing. It's got something on visual art, that's for sure. You can't lick a painting. I'm just saying.

  The sad truth is that delicious food - food that has been made with love - is not an easy find. But here in Brooklyn, steak tacos were heaven-sent to sustain me while living far from the kitchen of my childhood. I was eating one (alright, I was eating three. I always get three, and sometimes four if I'm ravenous, but never less than three; unless it's a single dessert taco to fill the space left by a woefully unsatisfying vegetarian dinner), when John laughed at me from across the table. I wiped my mouth and face, but they were clean.

  "Those noises you make," he said, grinning. "It's like the food is... pleasuring you."

  It's true. When the food in my mouth is truly delicious, I can't help tasting without making soft, primal oh’s of appreciation. It's possible that some people find it weird, but I will not apologize for it. The food just merits more than words.

  And have I brought food to bed? While I've never made a night of it, it has entered the bedroom the way food enters any part of the house: because you want to eat it. Really, I love eating in bed, and I love things that melt in your mouth. Ice cream, popsicles, chocolate, chocolates filled with tangy cherry liquid that spills on your sheets no matter the precautions taken while biting - I love pressing my mouth against my lover's mouth and knowing that we are tasting the same thing in this moment - before it dissolves like the rest of time.

  If you ever invite me to your dinner party and I don't make these noises, it's not because I'm self-conscious about making them in front of so many people. My food-loving is entirely un-self-conscious, the way sex should be. The truth is your food simply isn't pleasing me to that extent. Don't get me wrong - I am grateful to be fed, and always enjoy eating. I just can't fake that kind of enthusiasm.

  And it would be a disservice to you if I tried. If everyone faked deliciousness, you would go on making mediocre food for other people, forever unaware of the ecstasy that really good food can provide for another person. I would only be helping you cheat yourself out of something grand. And anyway, the great thing about food artistry is that it's really more of a craft - so you'll get better with practice!

  To be a good cook, all you really have to know is what you like. To please your guests' taste buds, you must first please your own. Only then will you gain the knowledge and confidence to try things your guests didn't even KNOW that they liked.

  Mmm... food. Have you ever thought you might have a fetish?

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