Eating is the most ordinary act we human beings carry out.
Simple or sophisticated, food is eaten in the same way. We chew it, process it, discard it. If it is good, we enjoy it and, at best, it nourishes us.
Food is a reminder that we can choose. Or so we think. Eating is no longer so much an act of freedom as one of availability. Increasingly, we all eat the same things, no matter where we are. Food globalization is gaining ground on every corner. What we eat now depends little on what the earth provides, or on identity, or on the time of year, or even on how long a food has ripened or cooked. Sometimes, it no longer depends on taste itself.
Let us hope we have time to observe what we eat—and whether it REALLY is what we think we are eating. Eating, although it seems mechanical, is one of the acts that requires the greatest awareness. Sometimes we do it only to stave off hunger, without seeking out what is nutritious or tasty, or considering whom we will share it with. Everything is in such a hurry today. It seems there is no longer time to set the table for the very basic act of eating. We have to make time for it.
This is a place to talk about food freely and sincerely. It is not an academic space, and the only things invited here for you to try are stories and, on another level (if you prepare them), the dishes described in them.
Here, people take part with stories that describe their work and passions, which sometimes overlap. These stories all have plenty of food in common, from the earth and the seed to the sip, the spoonful, or the bite. They bear the imprint of time, trades, techniques, processes, and also of places, memories, and feelings. I invite you to read them.
