The Exquisite, Sensual Pleasure ... of Good Food

Why food is sex. Take 2.

Please, let me explain. No, really: even if you totally “get” the statement above, you may be wondering what this has to do with widowhood and why this is Take 2. Allow me to explain.

In a previous post from Portugal, I referred to both chocolate and olives as “sex.” Lots of people — especially women (in my experience) — refer to good food as sex because both are something to be enjoyed; something can bring exquisite pleasure. Yes, I fully understand that there can be a dark, negative side to sex but this post is not about that. In fact, this post isn’t about sex at all. It’s about food. Period. The end.

I showed my first draft of this post to one of my most trusted friends. He is a communications expert and always proofs what I write. His response to my first draft was: “This is the first time I’ve edited a post that got me aroused.” And while that’s a nice compliment, that wasn’t the intent. So, here I am. Take 2.

Grief. Food. Widowhood. Are you seated comfortably? Let’s begin…

My relationship with food in the early months of my grief was complicated. Honestly, I really didn’t want to eat. I wasn’t intentionally not eating but nothing appealed to me. Coffee — massive amounts of bold, strong black coffee — and water. That’s all I wanted. Did I eat? Yes, I nibbled here and there. When I ate, I ate what I wanted but it was for survival. And I wasted a lot of food. Things that appealed to me in a shop usually held no appeal when I got them home.

I didn’t talk much about not eating. Well, not that I remember. I don’t recall it being a source of conversation. Having said that, I come from a culture that uses food to communicate. Food is nourishment but food is also meant to comfort and show love. The day after My Favourite Husband died, my Mom, my youngest brother and one of my nieces came over to my house and they brought some of my favourite foods: chocolate cake, beef jerky, spinach dip. A friend and neighbour dropped off food to nibble. Other friends dropped off a variety of food. Food to show love. Food intended to comfort. Food to sustain.

As the months passed and I started slowly carving a new path, food took on a different meaning. I had lost weight by not eating much the first few months and, in addition, I started taking aquafit classes as a physical outlet for my grief. Both of these were paths to becoming a healthier me and I liked how my body was responding. Being a person who has struggled with my weight all my life, I did not want to add a diet to my grief road but I did want to eat smaller portions and healthier meals. My plan — one I still stick to — is eat what I want in moderation. By not denying myself anything, I have a healthy relationship with food and I find myself making smarter food choices automatically because I know nothing is off limits. 

Food to sustain. Food to nourish. Food to replenish.

I’m over a year into widowhood. And as my path winds and shifts, I find myself finding a more equal balance between my grief and my new life. That, for me, includes joy and happiness. Yes, there is grief. Yes, there is pain. But yes — emphatic yes! — happiness and joy, as well.

Part of that joy is good food. Food that is exquisite. Food that is bliss. Food that makes me sigh with pleasure. Yes, I still eat to nourish and replenish but there are moments when the food is so good, it’s magical. It’s “sex.”

My trip to Portugal had so many food moments that made me sigh with pleasure. The pastries — the pastel de  natas, for sure — and the chocolate croissants; sinking my teeth into a flaky croissant with a chocolate filling; a chocolate shell that secreted a soft, Nutella-like centre. You’re going to tell me that’s not “sex?" Or, how about the olives? Olives marinated in olive oil with cilantro and garlic; the raw, earthy flavours that boldly declare they may be a simple food but they are not to be ignored. Sex.

I could go on ... and on ... but before I get too carried away, here’s my point:

I’m at a point in my widowhood where food can be joy. Food can evoke my senses; bring them alive, make me feel alive. Food — good food — can be sex.

Are you still with me? I hope so. And I also hope that whether you are travelling a road of change or a road that is smooth that you find a beat or two where moments of joy and happiness make your day a bit easier. I hope you find food that makes you smile. I hope you have food that makes you sigh with pleasure and say “sex” as you take another bite.

❤️