My Ever-Changing Visual Palate

Throughout my eating disorder history, the Food Network Channel and cooking shows played non-stop in my immediate viewing area. Evolution gives rise to a deeper appreciation.

I feel the knots in my stomach balling up and tightening at the mere thought of myself 30 years ago perched on my sofa, fixated and salivating at the luscious meals prepared on cooking shows of the 1990s. With a plastered smile and an empty ache in my belly, I could block everything else out besides the delectable desserts and hearty meals I would never allow myself pleasure in a bite or satisfying taste.

The Empty Palate

I punished my unworthy self by watching food-themed shows constantly. In my eating disorder, I starved my brain and body of nourishment. Feeding my eyes was my small attempt at tricking myself into being content with an illusion.

I don’t remember the recipes or details in the presentation or which chef made the flavorful masterpiece. I remember sweating in anticipation of the end product ready to be devoured, only on screen.

I’d occasionally work up the courage to look up the recipe and attempt to make it on my own. If I went on script without substitutions, I would make it for others to eat and claim I was happy to do it for their enjoyment. I was usually distressed because I thought everyone else deserved it but me. I’d also give up on the recipe and adapt every so-called healthier option, so not many wanted to try it, but then I could eat it with half an effort in change.

Today, it’s so clear recognizing a void was my starting point. I should apologize to every chef I watched for missing out on all their tips, tricks, and techniques in developing unique entrees and treats for the world’s viewing and participatory pleasure. I believe they won’t fault me for traveling my rocky road to recovery, no matter how long it took.

The Complimentary Palate

At the end of 2019, I started my final, most focused attempt at recovery, which unfortunately coincided with recovering from surgery, and my prescribed diet was so restrictive. The bland, dry choices needed to heal for one purpose reminded me I do have options for the rest of my life, and I didn’t want to lose them.

As I dabbled my tastes for foods I used to enjoy and some I went out of my way to avoid, I realized seeing cooking shows turned on made me turn and walk the other way. I didn’t have the gut-wrenching craving only to watch food made, so it was as if I didn’t want them to spoil the excitement before I tasted more varieties foods.

With the 2020 shutdown and shut-in, I was surprised I still didn’t want to be in the room when the food channels were on, which was often around here. I think, in some ways, I wasn’t ready for the test.

The Meaning-Full Palate

It’s been three years since I reclaimed aromas, scents, and full-flavored bites of all the flavors and colors of the edible rainbow. I still have hiccups in choices and more easily identify the triggers and stress associated with its presence.

I’ve been surprised by things I used to like changing. Something I didn’t particularly appreciate even when I was little without an eating disorder; now, I love it. My obsession with roasted asparagus and brussels sprouts I would have spit into a napkin as a kid. Food isn’t diet or not; it’s just food.

I get a kick from having wasabi spice tickle my nose when I grab too many peas in my handful. The first time, I added a “hot” sauce to a dish again and forgot my tolerance reset to zero. That was fun. It was definitely fun. Splashing spices all over my taste buds felt like paint splatters on canvas creating art from the artist’s view. It was an original masterpiece.

Choosing foods now can be based on cravings, moods, nostalgia, adventure, and tradition. This version of me still thoroughly enjoys boring vanilla ice cream. Still, pralines and cream or pistachio and chocolate also give me ample delight. I still make simple skinless chicken breasts, but I also enjoy them stuffed with Swiss cheese and basil or spinach, mushroom, and ricotta. I’d still opt for the aroma and taste of freshly baked bread over chocolate chip cookies any day. I like both, but my preference has a significant purpose for me now. I own my choices and delight in the view, taste, smell, and mouth feel on every level of sheer memorable pleasure.

One week ago, I was in my garage, where I do my morning workout, and I turned on our old tv. I came across a show on the history of bread or something of that nature. It explored different countries and cultures and dissected the origins of traditional bread-making. I was fascinated! I was a baker about six years ago and have only made bread at home a few times since then. Something changed. I saw it through the eyes of a full belly, spirit, and mind. I appreciated the painstakingly difficult work of producing fantastic bread from the freshest ingredients ritualistically to honor the history of a nation.

It had meaning to me now. I packed my palate and reveled in the choices.

Thank you for reading my personalized historical recipe for positive change.

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