Little wonder then that, for so many of us, the connection between what we prepare for others to eat and what is prepared for ourselves carries a meaning far beyond nutrition itself.
Sometimes it seems as if the world can be split up into kinds of people – those who love to feed others and those who love to be fed. But whichever side of the divide you fall on, chances are some of your most powerful memories are connected to eating. Whether that means raucous, big-table affair with family and friends or romantic dinners a deux, one of the reasons those memories remain so good and strong is because this about more than simply eating. Food is more than physical nourishment; it's a practical demonstration of love.
One of our greatest drivers as human beings is the need to provided and be provided for, a trait that goes right back to our hunter-gather selves when the securing of an amply proportioned wildebeest could quite seriously mean the difference between life or death. In our modern-day land of plenty most of us have more than enough to keep us nutritionally satisfied, but the value of presenting, preparing and sharing the very best food we have to offer remains innate. Look at the phenomenal success of a cook like Nigella, for example – sex-kitten antics aside, much of her spiel is about how food brings people together, providing comfort, and even stability, in an otherwise frantic world.
If you're a natural nurturer and provider, ready to feed the world at the flap of an apron string, all this will make perfect sense. But not everyone gets the food-equals-love vibe to the same degree. To those of us more inclined to treat food as fuel rather than a means of vicarious affection, it can seem baffling at times.
Even so, there's no doubting its sincerity of intent. Whether it's a carefully selected cupcake or a meticulously prepared four-course meal, we've all encountered situations where you really can't say no. For my part, I've licked the proverbial plate clean from almost every one of my husband's many carefully cooked meals. After all, what's an extra inch or two on the old waistline to avoid that hurt look that flickers in his eyes if I reject what's taken him time – and more importantly loving thought – to prepare.
A homemade ice cream sundae too far you might think, but it's hardly surprising when you consider that a friend of mine still swings between misty-eyed regret and murderous outrage when she recalls the time her partner came home, turned down the perfectly tasty meal she'd created (“I just don't feel like it love”) before rustling up some beans on toast – two years after the incident (now known as Salmongate) occurred.
And it's not just lovers who feel that way, far from it – who doesn't know a mother who still insists her children enjoy the full spoils of her kitchen more than ten years after they've left home? Or it may be that you've turned into a culinary provider yourself, merrily cross-pollinating meals with affection, using cooking to extend the warranty of the relationships around you.
Whatever way you look at it, food is powerful shorthand for expressing many of our basic emotions and wants. Whether it's a heartening bowl of chicken noodle soup offered to an under-the-weather loved one or being treated to a three-star Michelin meal, food is one more language to use in the complex dialogue of human love and affection. We use it to celebrate and to commiserate, to show off and seduce, comfort and console.
The trick, however, is not to take it too seriously. Much as it might pain all you culinary providers out there, sometimes a fish pie is just a fish pie after all.
