In the words of Nigella Lawson, food “satisfies our need, our greed, for connection.” People go to restaurants for date nights for a reason. That’s why the bumper sticker on someone’s car reads, “I won’t put out unless you buy me dinner.”All roads to intimacy go through the stomach. Butterflies are also felt in the stomach. It makes you think: why is the heart even that popular if the gurgling belly underneath decides the trajectory of our days and love lives?
In the arena of performance, at a cafe, fine-dining restaurant, or a dive bar, couples watch each other’s every move. It’s how you tell whether a blind date is worth taking home or blocking immediately. Some irritants have been declared again and again. Nobody deserves a partner who calls the waiter by making a sound like they were luring a dog in. Worst are those who shout from their chair, “Bhaiyaaaaaa.” What a horror. And whoever steps up first to call the waiter to the table establishes themselves as the alpha in the dynamic. People who take too long to decide what they want to eat sort of kill the vibe. While others show some effort and research the menu at home. Then there are the vegans and picky eaters who reveal themselves to say, “Hey, I am going to be a problem. Hope that’s okay.” It might be okay for some people, not for me. I am sorry, I don’t play around with food.
I eat first with my eyes, then I smell for spice, and then I do a happy dance at the first bite. It is a sight only select people get to see, those dear to my heart. Maybe that’s why I lose my appetite on first dates. I order fries or nachos to appear dainty, and I take ladylike bites. It feels as though I am a celebrity and the paparazzi are ready to catch a weird expression on my face—so I don’t give them a chance. As if I’m not even interested in eating. Like I don’t even eat.
When a talking stage keeps texting, “Have you eaten?” I feel compelled to lie. No, I haven’t. Best one? I forgot to eat. I assumed it was a fat girl problem—people who look a certain way that requires them to control the narrative around their food intake. But no. Women, despite their size, feel this way about eating in front of dates. Some married women are okay about eating after their husbands go to bed and the kitchen is clean. The portions on the plate tell the emotional state of their being, and they do not want to be judged for it.
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Starving or hungry?
It’s a sad, sad way to live. A recipe to remain hungry forever, and not in a good way. And so, before long, princesses turn into mean girls, leading an unfulfilled life.
Serious eaters who chuck the spoon at the sight of rice should feel comfortable doing so in front of someone they want to impress. It helps if a Bihari dates a Bihari because nobody makes a face at daal mixed with curd, gravy dripping from fingers to palms and the crunch of green chilli after every bite. It’s not always healthy, but it can feel very, very comforting. We need a partner who understands our food culture at least.
An Assamese artist living in France met me at a Delhi event and talked about how food is a sensory experience for her too. Taste is the last thing. It’s the act of sitting next to someone you love, the colours on the plate and how warm and homely it feels to touch. She loves her kaji nemu; it uplifts everything. But it wasn’t a feeling she ever got around French guys. Fortunately for her, a Kannadiga boy was found roaming the streets of Toulouse, and she swooned, clutching the lemon in her hand. He gets how she eats, and they always eat together, as much as they want.
Couples are known to gain two stones on average after falling in love. It’s called the “healthy relationship weight.” The bottomless bowl of chips they go through while bingeing shows together and the hundred different restaurants they try, looking for a place to sit across from each other, are to blame. I can’t prove if it is the ultimate third base of a relationship when two people start Zomatoing food without any occasion or purpose, but you can just take my word for it.
Chemistry thrives around calories. Believe the severe foodies I hang out with; true love makes people ravenous.
Cooking is part of the same intimacy-generating and love-building architecture. A colleague never leaves for work with an empty stomach because her husband wakes up in the morning and prepares a unique breakfast for her every single day. An artisanal sandwich, an omelette made with extreme care, and a shake packed with protein and powerful, all sustainable ingredients of marriage and companionship. She calls it “bhog”. An offering made by the devotee to the goddess of his dreams.
Food is a love language—and it is also something that differentiates between characters and defines them.
Men who take eating and feeding seriously are a green flag to me. The last man who impressed me on a date bought a gelato from one shop and a cookie from another. Unashamed and lost in the quest for warm chocolate crumbs and cold vanilla melting in his mouth, he looked so real. “Mmm”, he said, wiping the splashes of ice cream from his beard. Yummm, I thought.
Views are personal.
(Edited by Insha Jalil Waziri)