I have always loved reading descriptions of food, so much so that it was a shock to me to find out that other people didn’t like it. I’m happy to read loving descriptions of foods I’m familiar with, foods I’ve never food up, foods that don’t actually exist. More simply put: I love food, and I love descriptive writing (a thing I find myself woefully inadequate at), and I will therefore cherish your George R. R. Martin feasts, your Audrey Niffenegger meals, your Brian Jacques rations.
I don’t have anything more substantial to add here; this is simply an unpopular opinions post about how much I love food writing. Carry on.
Anyway, here’s a drabble.
(a.) from Greekoregeinfor “to desire”
Relating to desire and appetite.
The meal is sufficient. Some might say luxurious; spices from every continent, exotic honeys, meats from animals he’s never heard of, breads baked into the shape of creatures large and small.
And it tastes… good. Once it would have excited him. The flavors, sweet, savory, sour, dance across his tongue, but the feeling is now familiar. He’s tasted it before, will taste it again. He has tried fasting, but he cannot forget.
He needs something new, something to satiate his tongue’s need for something new. A lick from the cap of Amanita phalloides. A drop of tetrodotoxin. Blood, served warm.