A monthly column? With my byline? Oh the pressure! I couldn't sleep for weeks. I sat petrified in front of a blank computer screen each time I took out my laptop. Unlike the countless articles I had written in journalism school or the pieces I had published while working at a weekly magazine, a column would forgo the objective viewpoint I had worked so hard to hone. A column would (gasp!) present my thoughts and opinions for all the world to see. What if I couldn't form concrete opinions? What if I couldn't connect with my readers? What if I didn't have anything to say?
And then it hit me: This is a column about health and nutrition. This is a column about food! Food: the universal shared experience. And suddenly it didn't matter if my politics differed from those of my audience. It didn't matter if I wore a Red Sox jersey while my reader rocked a Yankees cap. I could find common ground in breakfast cereals, in midnight snacks, in failed New Year's resolutions. And that got me thinking.
Regardless of nationality, age, gender or sexual persuasion, we all share common food experiences. For example, take your average subway car full of a diverse group of strangers. While a roundtable discussion on the merits of subsidized farming or a debate about the greatest living athlete of all time may fail to hold everyone's attention, chances are a dialogue about favorite foods or the most beloved ice-cream flavor will get most people talking.
We all have our own odd idiosyncrasies when it comes to food. And, since this is my first column and I'd like for you to get to know me better, I'll share a few of my own:
I have a favorite spoon. It's a soup spoon, nothing fancy. The handle is bent and there are gashes in the stainless steel from a distant run-in with the garbage disposal, but I love it nonetheless. In fact, it's hard for me to dig into a bowl of cereal without it. On more than one occasion I've found myself frantically rummaging through the silverware or picking through a dirty dishwasher just to find it. I have other spoons. A whole drawer full. But this is my spoon. Sure it's a bit obsessive-compulsive. Maybe a tad crazy. But I guarantee that every one of you has at least one compulsory food behavior. Maybe you drink from the same coffee mug each morning or sit at the same table in the dining hall each night. Whatever it is, we all have our own "favorite spoon."
We also share cravings for unusual food combinations - recipes that our friends and colleagues turn their noses up at. They are usually passed on from our parents or discovered at some point during childhood. Elvis, for example, found joy in peanut butter and banana sandwiches. My father eats donuts topped with cheese. Me? Ham and pickles. Sure, the thought of ground deli meat mixed with sweet relish may turn your stomach, but it makes my mouth water. And that's the beauty of it. Personal food choice is the one place where other people's judgments don't matter. While someone else's particular food preference may disgust you, it's unlikely to offend you. No war was ever fought over the merits of ketchup on grilled cheese.
Whether it's an unusual fetish or a quirky behavior, food is one of the few remaining forums where we can celebrate our shared differences. So from here on out, I won't worry if my world viewpoint differs from yours or if you disagree with my religious beliefs. Because, at the center of it all, I know that each of you has your own eccentric food preferences and behaviors. And that's enough common ground for me.
Wally is one of the co-editors of Balance this semester.
