On Pasta and Philosophy
“Good food does not impress us. Good food breaks our hearts and reconciles us to our home on this earth”.
-Scott Samuelson, “Rome as a Guide to the Good Life”
When is the last time you moved through your day as an observer? When is the last time, for example, that you walked down your street, or through a crowded store or restaurant, and just soaked it all in? Think about it—even in a place as mundane as the grocery store, there are a variety of smells, tastes, sounds, and even emotions moving through us as we gather the ingredients for tonight’s meal. Unfortunately, it is difficult to remember to notice them.
Most of us move through our days one task at a time. There is a constantly expanding to-do list in our heads (or on paper, if you’re as scattered as I am). The reward waiting for us upon completion of this list is...rest. The chance to sit down for a moment and just get by until it all begins again tomorrow. And so, the wheel keeps spinning without shine or excitement.
I was prompted to contemplate all of this by a book I recently started. This book, “Rome as a Guide to the Good Life” by Scott Samuelson, takes the reader on a philosophical tour through Rome, relating significant places to philosophical thinking points. It was a chapter dedicated to pasta that inspired this blog post.
The checklists that seem to rule our lives keep us in a state of what Samuelson would call Cartesian living. The Cartesian attitude, as popularized by Rene Descartes, is focused on utility and forward motion. The goal is to get from point a to point b as efficiently as possible. To stop and smell the roses would be a waste of time.
The alternative, however, is much more hopeful. Samuelson turns to Italian food as an example. Even the simplest meal is rich in history and tradition. To not savor it accordingly does a disservice to us and those whose hands first crafted the recipe. Applying this approach on a wider scale invites us to do something beautiful: to become students of life.
Each day, we are surrounded by opportunities to know ourselves more deeply through the world around us. We are uniquely sensory creatures, with the profound ability to connect with ourselves and others. But it can be scary to let ourselves feel. No experience is unaccompanied by emotion. Taking a moment to breathe in the smell of the bakery you’re passing or smiling at the couple holding hands in the park has the potential to unlock emotions that could hinder the progress of our day. It can be easier to power through to the next task with our heads down, protecting our hearts.
A Cartesian mindset may shield us from the risk of feeling, but without that risk we miss out on the depth of living. After all, Samuelson does not promise us that a good bowl of pasta will make us happy. What he does promise us is that, if enjoyed and experienced with all our senses, and with mindfulness of its history, it will flood us with emotion. And the capacity for emotion, after all, is perhaps the deepest tie we have to our fellow humans—past, present, and yet to come.