Family and friends around me all know that food makes me happy. That's why I photograph and blog about it so much. They call me a foodie.
It's true that eating old favourites or new dishes make me happy because I know the ability to make good food is a talent that is under-appreciated by many. However, food also has the ability to make me sad because I tie them to memories.
My grandpa recently passed away and my food memory with him is his signature fried chicken wings that he would make for me those few times I got to see him. (I only get to see him once every few years). Nobody else can make wings like he does.
His wife, my grandma passed away almost two years ago. Although I don't remember it clearly because I was too young, she used to visit me every week with treats from the bakery until we moved. Those little cupcakes (no icing) that she used to buy for me, because they were soft enough for a toddler, remains one of my favourite baked treats.
Some people make remarks about my need to photograph everything I eat but I've since learned to ignore them because my purpose is to share. My grandparents have shown me that sharing a food memory can go beyond the moment the food was eaten. To me, being a foodie isn't just about knowing which restaurants are the best but it's about understanding how food connects people. Especially for those of us who are fortunate enough to treat food as a 'passion' and not a survival necessity.
I suppose that these food memories are more bitter-sweet than sad since the food allows me to connect with them even though they're gone but on the other hand, it will never be like the ones they got for me.
Just some food for thought. (haha to the pun?)