Food with no Soul
Have you ever sat down to a meal at a restaurant everything smelled fine, tasted fine, the right ingredients were in the right place with the right proportions, the price was probably a little higher than you were willing to spend, but somehow you leave feeling just a little...empty even though you're technically full?
My brother Neil calls that eating "food with no soul." It's what you get when you take perfectly all right tasting food, combine it with a decent decor, ambient music, adequate service and a nondescript restaurant theme. It's not that the food isn't good; it's that it lacks that feeling you get when you eat something.
While I am writing this, I am tucking nicely into a smoked mozzarella, tomato and basil sandwich, dressed with balsamic vinaigrette and olive oil. Even though this sandwich was made hurriedly last night in my kitchen, while I was slightly tipsy from a three hour dinner with friends, every morsel of the sandwich had soul. I can't explain it; it's an indescribable feeling surrounding food.
Most homemade food has soul, although I have been to a few peoples' homes where they served food that I felt was thrown together without preconceived thought or love of the food they were serving nor the people they were serving it to.
Food without Soul usually happens in a rush, when people are distracted, lots of times at restaurants when I get the feeling that the cooks in the back are disgruntled with their lives and couldn't care less about what they are dishing up (I just read Waiter Rant and am feeling a bit cynical).
Last night I was dining out with friends at Red Eye Grill. Again, perfectly tasty food (they are known for their seafood). I ordered a seafood paella, and Rohit ordered a crab/shrimp cake. Both were fine and would have won points in any paella or crab cake contest. There was just something lacking. Maybe it's emotion. Maybe, more specfically, it's love. For me, food with no soul, much like many Little Debbie cakes, are not worth the calories, the time or that empty feeling you get even after you leave the table stuffed.
My brother Neil calls that eating "food with no soul." It's what you get when you take perfectly all right tasting food, combine it with a decent decor, ambient music, adequate service and a nondescript restaurant theme. It's not that the food isn't good; it's that it lacks that feeling you get when you eat something.
While I am writing this, I am tucking nicely into a smoked mozzarella, tomato and basil sandwich, dressed with balsamic vinaigrette and olive oil. Even though this sandwich was made hurriedly last night in my kitchen, while I was slightly tipsy from a three hour dinner with friends, every morsel of the sandwich had soul. I can't explain it; it's an indescribable feeling surrounding food.
Most homemade food has soul, although I have been to a few peoples' homes where they served food that I felt was thrown together without preconceived thought or love of the food they were serving nor the people they were serving it to.
Food without Soul usually happens in a rush, when people are distracted, lots of times at restaurants when I get the feeling that the cooks in the back are disgruntled with their lives and couldn't care less about what they are dishing up (I just read Waiter Rant and am feeling a bit cynical).
Last night I was dining out with friends at Red Eye Grill. Again, perfectly tasty food (they are known for their seafood). I ordered a seafood paella, and Rohit ordered a crab/shrimp cake. Both were fine and would have won points in any paella or crab cake contest. There was just something lacking. Maybe it's emotion. Maybe, more specfically, it's love. For me, food with no soul, much like many Little Debbie cakes, are not worth the calories, the time or that empty feeling you get even after you leave the table stuffed.
posted by Fat Sister | 12:59 PM
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