The Taste of a Tomato
It was a summer afternoon several years ago when I discovered the taste of a tomato. Mind you, I'd had tomatoes before. But this one was different.
I'd gone over to a friend's house, and she had prepared us a simple lunch: a piece of toasted bread topped with melted cheese, a tomato slice, and a few fresh herbs. One bite of this easy delicacy and I was in heaven. Certainly she had used some secret ingredient. Upon questioning her, she promised it was just those 4 ingredients.
Sure enough, I went home and prepared this light meal - and boom.
Taste bliss.
I repeated the meal a few times, then forgot about it for awhile. Sometime in the early winter, I remembered the combination when I was considering what to eat.
Excitedly, I prepared it exactly as I had a few months before and sat down to eat. That first bite was SUCH a disappointment. It tasted bland - kind of what I would have expected a bread+tomato+cheese+herbs combo to taste like before my experience at my friend's house.
It took just a bit to realize what the difference was: the tomatoes we had used in the summer were fresh. They were in season. The one I had eaten just then certainly wasn't. It wasn't rotting by any means - just out of season and thus, lacking in the delightful tastes that emerge from fresh foods.
It was one of my first introductions to how subtle differences can create substantial variety in an experience - if you pay attention.
I'm as guilty as most of mindlessly plowing through a meal. While I'm practicing more often not using my phone while eating and trying to taste the food as it swirls in my mouth, there are times and meals where I'm more interested in just getting done and getting back to whatever it is I was working on.
When I DO remember to slow down and pay attention, I immediately notice the power of the meal on a much different level. I experience the taste differences between a frozen + microwaved burrito versus one I made from fresh (ish) ingredients. I experience the texture of each grape, the tang of the orange, the crunch and saltiness of the chip.
The meal nourishes me in a completely different (and dare I say, better) way when I notice the subtle tastes of whatever I'm consuming.
This isn't a hidden plea to get you to eat healthier (though I suppose we should all be paying a bit more attention to that). Instead, it is an invitation to be more present with the power of the subtle changes in mundane life.
Have you ever lit a scented candle or turned on an essential oil diffuser in your home and, after a few moments, feel just a bit more at ease?
Have you ever tried a new shampoo - one with a fun-colored bottle or intoxicating scent - and it makes your shower experience just a bit more delightful?
Have you ever rearranged your furniture and felt a whole new energy to a room?
Have you ever adjusted your posture and immediately felt a sense of breath flow through you?
If you aren't paying attention, none of these things will probably make much of a difference in your life.
It's easy to be mindlessly distracted while showering, thinking of what needs to be done. It's easy to adjust one's posture to eliminate a bit of pain, only to be caught up in thinking about the pain. It's easy to not notice a scent or color or visual change in a room if your mind is racing elsewhere.
But when we slow down and pause - if just for a few breaths - we start to notice subtle cues in our environment (or within ourselves).
The simple act of becoming AWARE of those subtle things gives them a profound power, and an opportunity for those things to change your mood, your perspective, and perhaps the flow of your day.
Try something today.
Become aware of something teeny tiny. The taste of your coffee, the feel of the back of your chair against your back. Or change something up and pay attention to the difference - a new toothpaste or rearranging your desktop.
Or maybe - especially if they are in season where you are - try a tomato.