I remember cooking a chicken once where I packed it in straw and then put a salt crust around it. I spent hours keeping that dough from popping holes everywhere. I finally did get it in the oven and it really was wonderful on my fork but… what was the person doing when he or she said “Wow, I wonder what a chicken would taste like if I cooked it in a pile of hay?” I must admit that my mind doesn’t work that way.
Over time our tastes do change and our palates become more sophisticated, or that’s what we’re told. I look back at old cookery books from 15th century England at a recipe for Pumpes or pork meatballs with spices which were poached in an almond milk sauce and decorated with flowers. So maybe times haven’t changed all that much after all. Maybe there are just more of us and we’re looking for new ways to excite ourselves.
You’ll never hear me objecting about men who are passionate about sports or cars or maybe even early episodes of The Simpsons but when it comes to things my man shoves in his mouth, my body parts are the things I want to hear him exclaim, “My God that’s good!”
It used to be that people like us were called gluttons but now we’re labeled “foodies”. People who prepared food went from cooks to chefs to celebrities and everywhere you see middle-aged or older women decorating girlie cupcakes as if it will delay our menopause. (it doesn’t)
We’ll probably never know how eating went from uhh.. well… eating to a full scale sexual experience on our plates every night. Don’t misunderstand me — I think it’s wonderful that we’re paying attention to what we eat, where food is sourced and how we prepare our meals. I just want to make sure that in our house at least, there is orgasmic pleasure both in the dining room and the bedroom.