There is no love sincerer than the love of food.
-George Bernard Shaw
You have to believe me when I tell you, I’m incredibly dull. Thick skulled. Dimwitted.
For the last decade, I have tried to find direction in life. I looked for a job that would bring me fame, or fortune, or some sort of respect from family and friends. All I found, alas, were headaches. Bartending was fun, but was never going to be challenging enough, or interesting enough to keep me. Working for the government was a torment. How municipalities can look forward while confidently striding backwards will always perplex me. Teaching, personally, was worse. I tried to take joy from the kids. I tried ignoring ignorami. I tried wrapping myself in the subject matter and the hefty holidays. None of it worked. At the end of the day I was empty and stressed.
How did I relieve this stress and fill that emptiness? Food. Not in a binge eating manner, either. I mean I surrounded myself with food. I talked food, I read about food, I cooked, I shopped in exotic markets, I went to restaurants that were far out of my price range. I used food to distract me from my unhappiness.
Despite all this, it was quite a shock to me when I realized that food is where it’s at. If I were to find true happiness, it had to be in food. The preparing of it, the growing of it, the writing about it. Somehow, I needed to surround myself with it. Over the last few months, I’ve shared this realization with different people. When I have, I’ve been met with two distinct reactions. The first is akin to a new parent realizing that their child has just gone potty without having to be told, or held by the hand. Their faces light up, they clasp their hands together, and everything in their being shouts “Finally! He’s got it!” The second reaction is less entertaining, but no less enlightening. People purse their brow,
narrow their eyes, shake their heads and say, “I’m sorry, you’re just figuring this out now?” As I’ve said before, I’m pretty slow on the draw.
And so it is that I head out in a direction. I will work with food, constantly learning and expanding my horizons. I want to pickle and poach and ponder. I want to grow and grind and grill. I need to start at the bottom of an industry, and learn my way up, taking in all I can, following where it leads me. And where will it lead me? Perhaps not to fame, or fortune, but certainly to happiness. What more can a man desire?
frankenough 