There is no doubt that that rural Tanzania is not a desirable destination for food-lovers. So, logically speaking, someone who loves food but has not had the chance to enjoy many different kinds of it should make every effort to enjoy that great variety after leaving rural Tanzania. Without going to excess, the person should be finding the most delicious spots around town, so that s/he can make up lost times of eating rice and beans every day in rural Tanzania. And the person would absolutely enjoy that exercise.
I should follow that logic, but the reality somehow proved to be quite different. It is not that I have not bothered with searching for food every time I leave the continent. Even in the most unstable travel destinations, I sought out the best food, knowing full well that food culture is an essential part of a nation's and people's identity. By finding and indulging in good food, I was deliciously learning about that society at the most human level, something that is rarely possible where I resided in rural Tanzania. That food search is something that carried wherever I go, even when I return home to San Diego.
Yet, for some reason, being surrounded by good food does not bring automatic joy in eating it. It comes down to a matter of habit developed over the past two years. The daily routine of rice-and-beans, meat-and-chips has made the concept of eating strictly a matter of sustenance, not enjoyment. Eating, in other words, has become not something to partake in pleasure after great efforts of search and/or creation, but just something that one needs to go through in order to "refuel" oneself so that one can continue to proceed with other, more important activities of the day.
With such a mentality, what to eat is no longer an important question. As long as the meal contains all the essential nutrients and enough calories to hold one over until the next meal, it really does not matter how it is prepared or arranged. The seasoning can entirely be on the safe side to ensure the meal remains somewhat palatable. Some salt would be enough to make the food not bland, and at the very most, some ground-up chili peppers could be added for excitement and variety in taste. Millions go through their entire lives eating such food, so there really is not anything fundamentally inadequate about it.
And after two years of that mentality, I found myself carrying that mentality to new places, where food no longer has to be restricted to such basic fare. It is not that I no longer like food with great varieties in ingredients and taste; instead, it has more to do with just what importance food holds in our daily lives. Good food is great to have, but by seeking it out, people waste too much time that can be spent elsewhere, doing much more productive things. As long as one can wolf down enough calories in 15 minutes or less, more time can be put aside for valuable work or study.
Such a minimalist attitude already has precedence. Mark Zuckerberg, of Facebook fame, allegedly only has grey sweatshirts and blue jeans in his closet. He wears exactly the same thing every day. His logic is no different from not picky about food: If he can cut down on the time spent selecting what to wear every day, he can spend more time on more "useful" activities, whether it be work, exercise, or simply spending time with family. Far from being ridiculed for lack of fashion sense, his logic is gaining growing numbers of admirers and emulators.
The logic can very much gain ground when it comes to food at the individual level. A person that does not care about food can technically spend more time creating value for society through work. But the question is whether that increase in personal productivity can offset the decrease in collective productivity as the food industry slowly wither away due to lack of patronage. Specialized food manufacturers and restaurants employ millions directly and indirectly, and the purchase of food is a major source of consumption in most economies. Even in rural Tanzanian ones, purchasing basic foodstuffs is a large proportion of people's incomes.
But when the majority of the population adopts a minimalist attitude toward food, the effect on the food industry would be catastrophic. Societies, like so many sci-fi films predict, would create edible pills that satisfy all nutritional needs, and no one will waste time cooking real food from real ingredients. The manufacturers of those pills would be the only food manufacturers left. Aside from destroying a fundamental portion of human culture, it remains in doubt whether getting rid of the food industry would lead to its replacement by other industries that can absorb the extra labor force.
I should follow that logic, but the reality somehow proved to be quite different. It is not that I have not bothered with searching for food every time I leave the continent. Even in the most unstable travel destinations, I sought out the best food, knowing full well that food culture is an essential part of a nation's and people's identity. By finding and indulging in good food, I was deliciously learning about that society at the most human level, something that is rarely possible where I resided in rural Tanzania. That food search is something that carried wherever I go, even when I return home to San Diego.
Yet, for some reason, being surrounded by good food does not bring automatic joy in eating it. It comes down to a matter of habit developed over the past two years. The daily routine of rice-and-beans, meat-and-chips has made the concept of eating strictly a matter of sustenance, not enjoyment. Eating, in other words, has become not something to partake in pleasure after great efforts of search and/or creation, but just something that one needs to go through in order to "refuel" oneself so that one can continue to proceed with other, more important activities of the day.
With such a mentality, what to eat is no longer an important question. As long as the meal contains all the essential nutrients and enough calories to hold one over until the next meal, it really does not matter how it is prepared or arranged. The seasoning can entirely be on the safe side to ensure the meal remains somewhat palatable. Some salt would be enough to make the food not bland, and at the very most, some ground-up chili peppers could be added for excitement and variety in taste. Millions go through their entire lives eating such food, so there really is not anything fundamentally inadequate about it.
And after two years of that mentality, I found myself carrying that mentality to new places, where food no longer has to be restricted to such basic fare. It is not that I no longer like food with great varieties in ingredients and taste; instead, it has more to do with just what importance food holds in our daily lives. Good food is great to have, but by seeking it out, people waste too much time that can be spent elsewhere, doing much more productive things. As long as one can wolf down enough calories in 15 minutes or less, more time can be put aside for valuable work or study.
Such a minimalist attitude already has precedence. Mark Zuckerberg, of Facebook fame, allegedly only has grey sweatshirts and blue jeans in his closet. He wears exactly the same thing every day. His logic is no different from not picky about food: If he can cut down on the time spent selecting what to wear every day, he can spend more time on more "useful" activities, whether it be work, exercise, or simply spending time with family. Far from being ridiculed for lack of fashion sense, his logic is gaining growing numbers of admirers and emulators.
The logic can very much gain ground when it comes to food at the individual level. A person that does not care about food can technically spend more time creating value for society through work. But the question is whether that increase in personal productivity can offset the decrease in collective productivity as the food industry slowly wither away due to lack of patronage. Specialized food manufacturers and restaurants employ millions directly and indirectly, and the purchase of food is a major source of consumption in most economies. Even in rural Tanzanian ones, purchasing basic foodstuffs is a large proportion of people's incomes.
But when the majority of the population adopts a minimalist attitude toward food, the effect on the food industry would be catastrophic. Societies, like so many sci-fi films predict, would create edible pills that satisfy all nutritional needs, and no one will waste time cooking real food from real ingredients. The manufacturers of those pills would be the only food manufacturers left. Aside from destroying a fundamental portion of human culture, it remains in doubt whether getting rid of the food industry would lead to its replacement by other industries that can absorb the extra labor force.
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