Thursday, July 13, 2006


There are the things we talk about and the things we don't talk about, and this is a post about the things we don't talk about, especially when we talk about food. We talk about making food, eating food, but we never talk about what happens to the food once the food is in you, becomes you, and, ultimately, leaves you.

But I have to talk about it, because--shit--we all shit.

I have a favorite place near my apartment; it sells Pakistani food 24 hours a day, and for $2 one can get a generously-filled styrofoam bowl of microwaved vegan curries and rice. Last night, inspired by my growling stomach and the amazing monsoon outside, I walked with a friend to get a bowl of late-night dinner. We got comedically soaked, we squealed in the storm, it was so much fun, and when my friend said, "it's so weird to be an adult and have a soggy bottom," I completely concurred.

We purchased two bowls of two types of curries and rice. I added a spicy mango pickle to mine, stirring in the red oil dotted with seeds. This was a good idea until it wasn't a good idea, which I would only realize later (ie, today). Delicious going down, I'll give it that. We finished our bowls. My friend was satisfied. I was not. "Oh, it's just two dollars," I said. "I'm going to get another bowl of different stuff." I asked the server at the counter which was the spiciest: he told me #4 and #6. #6 looked like yellow dog diarrhea but looks can be deceiving so I went with his suggestions. Feeling that this bowl didn't quite deliver on the spice, I added more mango pickle to my second portion, stirring in quite a bit of it. I finished the bowl, and my dinner, and now I was full.

So now to talk about what we don't talk about: The Reckoning.

I don't want to be coy but I don't want to be disgusting, either. Hmmm, can I find a middle ground? I will try.

A couple of years ago I came up with a term to describe what happens when one eats spicy food and then feels that spice later on in certain intimate parts of the body upon the completion of the digestive process. That term is "Spicing." Its usage is such: "Wow, last night I had a full-on Indian feast and today I'm really 'spicing.'" As in feeling it. REALLY feeling it.

As someone who loves spicy food, I must often deal with the consequences of my culinary predilections. And I have come to realize that there is something about those consequences that I keenly enjoy. Fine, I will say it: it makes me feel ALIVE. To feel the spice in my mouth, and then a day later to feel the spice down below, in my not-mouth, is amazing. That food can be so chemically powerful. That my body can be so powerfully sensitive to feel the food so many hours later. That things go in me, become me, but things also leave me, and my body knows what to keep and what to cast off. I love this.

Anal rententive? Not me. I am anal explosive. Eat your heart out, Freud, and look forward to feeling its heat later on.


Blogger crabbydad said...

I Fell Into A Burning Ring Of Fire
I Went Down, Down, Down
And The Flames Went Higher

And It Burns, Burns, Burns
The Ring Of Fire
The Ring Of Fire

-J. Cash

1:03 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home