Food for Thought: Introduction

As a food lover, the more deep of a connection I have with cuisine, the more I acknowledge the different perspectives that are seldomly recognized and maybe only exists subconsciously for the big majority of people. There are many approaches to food, such as spiritual, medicinal, social, cultural, artistic, economical, and a whole lot of other factors that stretches the spectrum that influences our perception on cuisine.

And a quick disclaimer about all the Food for Thought posts, I am not a big rocket scientist who goes into great depths about my theories, I am just a girl who shares underrated ideas about food that could maybe inspire real big rocket scientists to make real discoveries about food. I am not going to sugar coat my ideas to please readers, I will be stern and honest about my thoughts in this blog post series.

The easiest way for me to narrow down my point is sharing my love story. I’ve always loved food. I mean eating food. Like any person, I wasn’t naturally talented in cooking, but I gained an interest from watching MasterChef when I was fifteen years old. What really touched me was how emotional the home cooks would get when they present their dish, how it reminds them of a close relative or a sweet childhood memory.

Food is a form of love, and just like love, you need it to survive. So when we cook for our loved ones, we are enriching their lives with food made with kind, warm energy. This is how food can not only supply us with caloric energy, but also embrace us with loving energy.

Okay, I would really love to elaborate more on food is love, but that deserves its own Food for Thought post.

Continuing my love story, I got into the kitchen! At six in the morning I would cook a fresh meal for school lunch almost everyday, and it was honestly my favorite part of the day and got me looking forward to waking up. I would cook meals for my family, and they really appreciated it. Not only that it felt good to get so many compliments from them, it felt good in a sense that I saved money and felt healthier than if I were to eat out. I watched so many cooking videos and tried to recreate the most basic dishes. I remember my friend teasing me for seeing “how to make mashed potatoes” on my YouTube search history.

I love cooking so much that I gave up on my idea of becoming a psychologist to becoming a chef and opening a successful restaurant. Right after I graduated high school, I got my first restaurant job for a prep cook position at a brand new Mediterranean seafood restaurant in downtown Tampa. I was a part of their opening team and drove 45 minutes every morning from my little village to the heart of the city and began prepping at 6:30 am. Unfortunately, cooking in a restaurant is different than cooking at home and I learned that the hard way.

My schedule went from 6 hour shifts, to 8 hours, then 10 hours, and sometimes I would work 13 hours straight with no breaks. No warning, except for coming into my shift and the sous chef approaches me with the, “We need you to stay a little longer today.” I brought my own food after a couple of rough days of the chef promising me food and then refusing to give me any no matter how many times I asked nor allowing me to go to the salad shop next door. Yep, modern day slavery! Except slaves are FED. There were other big problems I had with my first job that I won’t address, as it’s not relevant to my love story.

Somehow I survived at that hellhole for two months, but I quit after an ex-coworker and his ex-wife convinced me with all their hearts to leave. What really shocked me was how many of my coworkers did absolutely nothing about how they were treated. Just on their feet for endless hours, not knowing when they will come home, no food nor a bathroom break without enormous stress from stopping just for one second. One of them passed out and was sent to the emergency room. Being treated like a machine on auto-pilot, brushing it off with, “this is normal”. Kissing the toes of the chefs, but complaining and crying among other coworkers. And the chefs were numb, as they were a more experienced version of a human machine on auto-pilot. My coworkers were really struggling, but bit back their tongues in fear of getting in trouble, as they need this job, since it’s all they know how to provide for their children, pay rent, and buy groceries.

That job was an important part of my love story, because it really humbled me. Yet, I’ve refused to allow this place to discourage my passion for food. Seeking for a better example, I moved to LA for culinary school. At first I planned to do the culinary arts program, which gets down to all the basics. However, I already self-taught myself the basics. I ended up doing the plant-based program, and it was absolutely one of the best experiences of my life. I met really inspiring mentors and made some of my best friends. Every week we had a lecture on nutrition, which is a classroom setting rather than a kitchen. I was introduced to Ayurveda, spa food, ikigai, and other forms of mindfulness in cooking.

After graduating culinary school, I finally got a line cook position at the restaurant I’ve been dreaming for, and still work there to this day. A restaurant that supports the community, provides really clean food, and creates a sustainable work environment. I am beyond happy to be a part of this place, continuing my passion.

Up until recently, I started appreciating food the way it is. I am so sick of how much salt and spices chefs put in their food. Working in multiple restaurants and coming from culinary school, there are still a lot of ignorance when it comes to knowing what common people really want that chefs fail to understand. Other than my work, I avoid eating at restaurants unless if it’s for socializing, which isn’t easy in LA. Cooking at home, I went from putting ten million condiments on my avocado toast to simply enjoying a boiled sweet potato with absolutely nothing added to it. My health drastically improved, coming from a household that eats so much until they feel unbearably full then whine that they can’t lose weight, I eventually no longer craved for “tasty” foods like tiramisu and burgers with a side of fries nor felt like filling the largest plate for my meals. I even started to think that bread is already a delicacy, a full meal in itself. All in all, my food choices changed a lot, along with my moral compass and cravings, and consume a humble amount of food that makes me look hot.

I volunteer at a farm to further understand farm-to-table cuisine, what it takes to grow good food. Gardening isn’t as glamorous as I thought, as I’ve encountered many bugs I’ve never seen before and my back aches from bending down to plant lettuces. It’s another important part of my culinary journey that humbled me. Grocery stores don’t show the farmers who work hard to grow and harvest the produce we can so conveniently grab whenever we want. We don’t see the dirt they dig through, the beating sun, and angry bugs, then throw a fit that a box of organic blueberries is $8. Grow your own blueberry bush if you think it’s so effortless.

Wrapping up my love story, my love for food went from pleasure-seeking to spiritual mindfulness. Food is a topic I can discuss to anyone of all backgrounds that unravels a rememberable conversation in my human experience. Food repairs my muscle tissues when I work out to look and feel my best. Food is a gift given from Earth’s soil and must be respected. I see it in so many lights and colors, not just something I need to survive nor a never ending resource of dopamine enhancers. I feel very blessed to be aware of that, and hope Food for Thought can enlighten others about the different views of food.