I ate half an avocado in one mouthful only to realize after some unpleasurable maneuvering of the squishiness inside of my mouth, that it was a baked sweet potato! Eating with my eyes closed–or wearing a blindfold, if it were available–has been this…humor me…fantasy of mine.
Before your mind jumps into sexual fantasies–although eating a strawberry with your eyes closed can be pretty high up on the pleasure scale–this isn’t a porn post or lusty summer read. It’s reconnaissance for a surprise experience I’m hosting with my son and husband. A blindfolded dinner!
I wondered, was this sensory deprivation blindfold eating thing really worth the hype? Or was it another trendy tourist attraction? So I set out to discover possible answers to my curiosities.
It took eating half of a salad in total childhood bliss and messiness, with balsamic vinaigrette running down my chin, unbeknownst to me, to begin to feel what too much softness at the end of my fork felt like—oops, too much sweet potato. I’d take a small bite off the end of my fork and use my bare finger on my opposing hand to scrape off the rest of the bite that was too big. Over time, I began to feel the weight at the end of my fork, signaling if a bite was too big to be pleasurable. Only to take another small bite of whatever was at the end of my fork, scrape the rest off with my finger, and try again.
It was freeing to cast aside my etiquette and hold my plate with a gentle, one-armed hug, to help my fork locate the ceramic target. I delighted in slow, mouthfuls of food with my eyes closed, without anyone to answer to or speak with (or cups of water, napkins, or salt to be fetched for others). I quietly wondered, what is it called when you arrange the food on your fork but haven’t eaten it yet? Is it still called a bite? Or should we start calling it a forkful? Or an alley-oop? Should we say, instead, “Tine the food?” These feel more exact–and more me. Especially when I have set out to eat with such attention that the food has time to linger on the fork before it finds its way into my mouth, hopefully.
While I amused myself with my curiosities, I noticed the end of my fork feeling heavier in my hand, but not too heavy, so I used my tongue to feel my way around the food I’d “tined,” (bear with me and my endearment for manufacturing new words and pronunciations for personal satisfaction), realizing it was a quarter of a hard-boiled egg! Getting to the hardboiled egg in the salad is a psychologically pleasing achievement for me, especially with my eyes closed. (Yes, the egg! My mind thrills.) Only for my next alley-oop of what-will-I-be-eating now? to be a mouthful of air and silverware. And the next forkful, one plain, raw almond. I revel in this disappointment.
When do I ever plant my fork onto my plate and intentionally come up null? I enjoyed this, so much, experiencing the quasi-intentional dissatisfaction of having nothing on my fork, or too little a bite of something unsatisfactory and kind of, plain, like one lone raw almond that never found the salad dressing or a crumble of goat cheese to stick to.
On a plate full of adventure and mystery, a forkful of nothing enhances the noticing of how delicious and divine everything else is. And much to my surprise, a lone raw almond loses its wellness allure and heart-healthy hype. It becomes…just an almond. A dry, nutty thing with a crunch. I don’t know how or when eating with my eyes closed turned off the faucet of information on what we should or shouldn’t enjoy eating because of its nutritional benefits. But I liked this, and it feels important.
If you’re considering joining me in this experience, here are some key takeaways to consider:
-Look like a fool. When the skin of the sweet potato is hanging off your lip, keep sucking it up until it’s all in your mouth. When the stem of the spinach is too long and it takes three or four more inches of biting to bring it all into your mouth, dare to chew like a giraffe. (This is much easier when eating in the comfort of your own home.)
-Make sure you lean over your plate, hunchback style. In between bites, you may sit up properly. Hunching is the best way to keep dropped food off of your clothes and on your plate.
-Do not wear white, unless you enjoy the pleasure of stain removal. (Hey, me too! High five.)
-Break etiquette. Towards the end of your course, you must use the fingers of your opposing hand to push the remaining food onto your fork. The only way to know you’re done and your plate is empty, aside from retiring early from fullness, is to finger-paint the plate. You must feel that the shallow pool of balsamic vinaigrette is the last man standing. When this happens, stick your fingers in your mouth, suck them clean, open your eyes, and decide on dessert (pudding) or tea.
…My salad experience was so enjoyable, I decided to have my pudding the same way. Eyes closed.
From my bowl, I balanced a big, succulent strawberry on my spoon. I could smell its strawberryness before I brought it into my watering mouth. I experienced the most pleasurable, fragrant, and juicy bite of strawberry, so much so that I moaned audibly, which isn’t uncommon for me–if we’ve broken bread together, you can confirm this. I thought, I surely would have missed this pleasure if my eyes were open.
The world and our access to such richness–food, nature, sounds, touch, color, smells, feelings, prayers–are so overwhelming that I don’t think we are physically capable of fully embodying them. But with our eyes closed, we can enhance them. When we slow down, we can engage our senses around each experience, and we can even revel in disappointment! I can’t wait to hear my son’s laughter when his forkfuls are actually fork empties. Maybe, when he’s an adult, he’ll appreciate the lesson here.
This week’s paid subscriber shout-out: Matt Joseph--my honey (Founding Member), Lauren Burgess, Lisa McCarty, thank you!
Thanks to all of you on Instagram and Facebook for your input on the podcast rebranding and new cover art. I struggled to choose the image because I feel tired of seeing my annoying face, alas, you all came in at 100% on the cover art with my "warm, radiant face" photo. (Who is paying you?) I loved the hilarious comments about not understanding my runner-up cover art (the one I wanted to use since my annoying, smiling face wasn't on it).
My Kind of Life, the podcast, has taken a pause for the summer. There are almost one hundred episodes in the archive. I invite you to revisit them as they apply to you and the season you're in.
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