We agree with who we eat

Curfew. Time for dinner. I scan the television. One of the channels reports that obesity rates have increased. In another, we talk about every restaurant we really need to go to after being suggested a sports car as well, a tour not to be missed, and a couple’s house is shown to us and proudly displays as we talk about it the superficiality, the danger of exposing intimacy and the illusion that social networks can be for the youngest.

I’ll switch channels again. An interview begins with one of the chefs of the moment who values ​​hedonism and the joy of eating and guarantees that he has exaggerated in his moderation speeches and that cooking is an art and more this, this and the other. And finally, after going through a spooky cooking contest, I come across a typical TV piece of the season, with a woman happy to be spring and we are about to end another labor but warn that summer is coming is at the door and we need to prep our bodies with diets, runs and gyms, all in the name of good looks and health for all.

As I do so, I get up to go to the refrigerator, and amid so many contradictions, I am, shall we say, confused about what to eat. There are many people who are scandalized when they visit a contemporary art exhibition – often moved by the artist’s contextualization of the work or concerned about the logic of social status – and get there and say they feel betrayed, even that she might have done it, and that the discourse on work replaces work and such and roasted and boiled. When I speak of him in the stew, this kind of phenomenon happens to me, but then I go to finance – I think that coded language made sure nobody understands – and for the past decade to the food and eating tales too Chefs and the places where they have to offer us new experiences.

Let’s be fair There are good practices, but there are also trips to exhibitions, forgiveness, to restaurants where the evidence is said to be unsatisfactory. In art, if you don’t understand, you can say you felt it. In the modern kitchen there are only nibbles and empty pockets. That said, one of the things I miss the most is going to restaurants. Preferably dignified, with good raw material, quiet, warm and without exaggerated prices. You don’t need a scientifically innovative chef, just someone who cooks with knowledge, vigor and affection.

Eating has become a new religion. We have chosen different diets as an act of faith. With the promise of paradise and life against disease on the horizon. We cannot sin, of course. To atone for the sin of gluttony, there was fasting and abstinence. Now, losing weight is a painful exercise, not to save the soul, but to seek the ideal body. We are what we eat, we are told. Yes, of course. Eating is also a political act. But this hyper-representation of food (today it’s activism, ethics, resistance, competition to see who eats more sustainably, healthily and responsibly) seems to have forgotten that this is as much or more important than what we eat. it’s who we eat with.

The table can be a revolution, a space for creating a community of friendship, coexistence and sharing. Something different from the competition that can be felt in the food industry today, and nothing to do with the desire for social status that it exhibits. Against hedonistic individualism, pleasure is also shared. A nutritional regime should not be a search for the superfluous or for asceticism, but rather the creation of a kind of balanced, continuous and authentic satisfaction, like a society in which basic needs are met (food, home, work, culture) and in which one was free to exist with pleasure. Enjoy your food.

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