The source of all pleasures is the satisfaction of the stomach. Epicurus
I’m exhausted already—even before I start writing, because I’ve spent too much time eating (carb-loading). Now I’m in a full-on food coma.
It occurs to me now that if only I had spent even a tenth of the time I’ve spent thinking about food in my life doing something more useful, I might’ve helped the course of humanity in at least some microscopic way. But, no, I instead chose to channel all that energy into food! And honestly, I feel pretty confident I’m not the only one who’s managed to waste their life in such a gloriously colossal way.
Just think about the sheer amount of resources we pour into food. First, there's the grocery store run, where you wander the aisles, staring at things like you've never seen produce or packaged foods in your life. Then there’s the stuff you buy on a whim—full of hope and good intentions—that slowly migrates from the front to the back of the fridge over a couple of weeks while you keep telling yourself you’ll “make something” with it. And then, of course, eventually it goes straight into the bin, still in its original packaging.
Not to mention that ambitious new recipe that shows up on your Insta Feed—the one you just have to try. So off you go, buying a bagful of brand-new ingredients (did I mention it’s Ethiopian cuisine?), fully committed and wildly optimistic. Then you realize it needs even more exotic ingredients, so back to the store you go.
Eventually, you’re too tired to cook anything, and it all just sits there—until six months later, when you clean out your pantry and find the faded remnants of your culinary dreams.
Sooner or later, you’re back to the same old stuff you make every day—but even that isn’t easy, is it? Don’t even get me started on the actual cooking process. The prepping, the chopping, the stirring, the timing. And the worst part? The cleaning. The dishes. The dishwasher.
Then you finally sit down to eat—for what, ten, maybe fifteen minutes? Half the time you’re scrolling through your phone or watching a cooking show on YouTube, so you’re not even present for your own meal—and worse, you’re actually wishing you were eating whatever’s on the screen instead!
And when it’s all done, you’re in a food coma because your body is using every ounce of energy to digest what you just inhaled. And a few hours later? It starts all over again.
Here’s the kicker: When I’m not actively making or eating food, I’m thinking about it. Fantasizing, really—about the restaurants I used to go to, the meals we had, those special dishes my family made...
The food memories are endless.
And now, with algorithms that basically know my mind better than I do, my social media feeds are flooded with recipe reels and gourmet hacks.
It’s relentless. There’s this constant undercurrent of food chatter in my brain that, honestly, is exhausting.
I think I partly blame my cultural heritage for this obsession with food. Growing up in India, pretty much every Hindu festival (and trust me, there’s no shortage of those) is basically an ode to food. It’s all about appeasing the gods with elaborate meals—the spirituality is more of a side character in the whole production.
One can see how that kind of imbalance might’ve made sense back in the day, when people were typically more spiritual, and special meals really enhanced special occasions. For instance, Ganesh Chathurthi, the celebration of Lord Ganesha, the god of wisdom, new beginnings, and the remover of obstacles, was celebrated with an offering of modak—a sweet dumpling with coconut and jaggery filling (yum)! Back in the age of my grandparents and great-grandparents, they probably only made modak that day in the whole year. It was special.
But now? Not just Modak, but every imaginable delicacy is available on speed dial or through Doordash and Uber Eats—we have 24/7 access. The result? All those problems resulting from excess food.
At least in America, undernutrition isn’t the main issue anymore. Overnutrition is. Of course, there are still parts of the world where a single square meal is a luxury, and that’s a whole different conversation. But for many of us in the developed world, the challenge is managing the abundance.
I tried looking up to see how many books were published last year on diet, nutrition, and food. I swear, Google just gave up. There are that many.
I’m sure my ancestors would be amazed—maybe even grateful—that I get to live in a world with this much food. So I guess, yeah… lean into it.
The point of this post isn’t to give you some life-changing advice about reclaiming your time from food thoughts. Clearly, I don’t have that kind of wisdom. I think we just need to own the fact that we’re all foodies now. Accept it. Enjoy the food when we can.
If I had to leave you with anything remotely helpful, it’d be what Michael Pollan said: “Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.” Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Easy for him to say…
Anyway, that’s all the food wisdom I’ve got. I have to go now, because I just heard the three words that should really come with a trigger warning:
“What’s for dinner?”
People who love to eat are always the best people. Julia Child