As I noted last month, I’ve spent the past year losing almost 80 pounds. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
In that time, I’ve discussed the issue with a few of my friends, many of them who like many Americans could stand to lose a few pounds. More than a few of them have responded “I could never give up…” pasta or ice cream or popcorn or whatever. And I do get that. None of them were easy for me to give up – and now that I’ve lost the weight, I indulge once in a while – but when I was in the middle of things, my response was and remains “nothing tastes as good as getting healthier feels”. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
But I’ve gotten a response from a few others that’s caused me to think a little higher up the sociological food chain. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mom wasn’t a bad cook when I was a kid – but dinner time was a matter of being together, rather than about the food, per se<\/em>. There wasn’t a lot on the menu that had deep cultural or social significance for us, other than maybe my grandma’s lefse. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Dinner was about eating and family. Not pseudo-mystical connection to food itself. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I’ve met people for whom things are quite the opposite; for whom “foodie-ism” is either a nerd outlet, like being a Star Wars buff, or a pseudoreligion. Our culture caters to both; from the “Food Network” to the celebrity chef culture, there are parts of our culture that totemize, even fetishize, food to one degree or another. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Or that’s my theory. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I thought about this over the weekend, when I listened to “The Delicious Dish”…<\/p>\n\n\n\n …I’m sorry, that was an SNL spoof of NPR. <\/p>\n\n\n\n