‘Slow eaters think they are morally superior. But they’ve lost their appetite for life. They will claim it makes them healthier. But that’s absurd.’
So begins an article in the Observer by Restaurant Critic Jay Rayner, decrying people who eat too slowly. Jay, a self-proclaimed fast eater, claims that ‘we like life more than slow eaters like life. Slow eaters aren’t just doing something they love more slowly than others. They simply don’t like food, not enough. No one with a real instinct to feed can ever eat slowly.’ I’m sorry Jay, but I beg to differ. The health benefits of slow eating are simple and common-sensical. It was put to me once by Michael Rossoff that the single most effective thing you can do to improve your eating behaviour is to just chew your food more. Breaking down your mouthfuls helps to reduce the workload on your digestive tract. People often throw ‘optimum numbers of chews’ at you (30, 50, 100 chews) but don’t be put off. I suspect the main intention behind this idea is to create space for yourself, and your body, to reflect on your food, become open to appreciation and nourishment. Ultimately, this is not just about ‘eating for health.’ This is about enjoyment, and the nourishment that we obtain from food, in our Being. But I have some sympathy for Jay. I am also in the habit of bolting my food. I suffer from a gluttonous streak. It’s more apparent when I’m alone, and not in the company of others, when my more socially-acceptable eating behaviours kick in. But I know that when I do slow down, and take a moment to take in what is in front of me, I am filled with appreciation and gratitude. I am struck by the colours, the shapes, the smells on the plate. I sometimes reflect on the journey this food has taken to get to me. I recall the people who produced the food, or the exchange we had when I bought it from them. There are sometimes items I’ve collected on that day, partnered with ingredients from my cupboard, and contributions from others. In doing this, my body softens and my appetite is fed, before I even take a bite, and it continues, as I enjoy my meal, with real appreciation. Slowly, attentively. An opportunity is provided to not just feed myself, but to nourish myself fully.
Jay, I understand your aversion to slow eaters. They make you uncomfortable. Perhaps they give you the suspicion that despite your obvious love and appreciation of food, you might be missing out on something richer and more satisfying.
