Love. A concept not understood by many, having not experienced it or felt it, it is often treated with relative skepticism and mixed feelings. I am in love. A profound, unexplainable, wild, enthusiastic feeling that streams through my veins – and stomach for that matter.
The way to my heart is through my stomach. I love every aspect of food: the aromatic impact on the air; the incredible, creative colors and the numerous explosions on my taste buds. Be it grown on a farm or bred in the sea, it doesn’t matter, because food is food to me. My obsession with food began whilst being nurtured as a baby. Hungry as a baby, I howled at the top of my lungs and the whole world responded to my tantrums with a calming and soothing response – food.
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Food is extremely important in my life. My love for food is not only about eating, I also enjoy cooking. I always tried to learn and master all the secrets and tricks from my mom and grandma before leaving for boarding school. Being Nigerian, food is a massive part of the culture. Nigeria is one of the world's most ethnically diverse countries. The people from the eastern part of Nigeria, mostly Igbo (like me) eat nkwobi (cow foot), isiewu (goat head) and yams. Yams are usually eaten in place of potatoes and are an important part of the Nigerian diet. The Igbo population of Nigeria annually hold a ‘New Yam Festival’ at the end of the rainy season in early August to celebrate a good harvest of yams. It is socially established in old Igbo society, where riches were measured by yam. It operates as an expression of cultural identity. While in Northern Ireland, I have well-acquainted myself with the African shops as a means of preserving my culture in this foreign country. The importance of food is evident in other cultures as well. For example, Paella. A Spanish festive dish that celebrates the joy of communal dining. Food brings us together.
Some people would argue that the most important ingredient for any food is love, and I greatly disagree. The cook does not have to love you for the food to be good, they just must want to make you love their food. Sometimes I wonder how different my life would be if I agreed with the above statement. That would mean no eating at restaurants, no stopping for suya (roasted peppered beef) on the side of the road, no more bole (roasted plantain) from the lady outside my estate, and, most importantly, no Chinese takeaways.
I know my passion for food is somewhat self-evident. My father is continually revealing to me that he just goes to buffets with me so “[he] can get his money’s worth”.
Food is for every mood. It is dependable, regardless of how vexed, cheerful, pushed or thrilled, I can always count on food for solace or festivity. Throughout my life, I truly considered being a food critic, but was advised against it because, in the words of my cousin, “[I would] succumb to flavors, allowing them to cloud my judgement”. It could still be a part-time job for me, one I would whole-heartedly enjoy.
Food is always craved. At the point when the opportunity arrives, nothing can supplant it or calm the hankering. I believe that food is one of the building blocks of happiness. Being happy to me is being surrounded by your favorite people who have your best interests in mind sharing all your favorite foods. Happiness could likewise essentially be the inclination felt when eating a specific food or the recollections activated in connection to that food.
Food is everywhere, it is a gift. We as people can truly not live without nourishment and regardless of whether we could, life itself would be horrendous. Food is a culture and will continue being a colossal piece of our way of life until the end of time.
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