Appetites

...for destruction and otherwise

A weird thing is happening to me lately, as a 55 year old culinary professional.

I’m losing my appetite. Just generally I’m not as hungry as I used to be. I’m still super-interested in checking out new restaurants, reading menus, food trends, talking about food, tasting food, etc. I’m interested intellectually, but I just don’t feel it in my stomach as the ravenous physical need every 4-5 hours like I used to. And I fill up quicker now too. I used to be able to try two or three different restaurants in one night, but now I start feeling full after two or three dishes.

Age is a factor, I’m sure. My metabolic systems are slowing. I’ve also been trying to get more in shape and eat more sensibly, so decreased appetite isn’t the worst thing in the world for me in that regard. But it’s been a weird experience to have meal time come and go where my mental clock tells me “hey, time to eat something,” but my stomach is like, meh.

Plus, I’ve been a little sick the last few days. Just a strangely itchy-eyed head cold from what it can tell, but it’s killing my appetite as well.

And then there’s the Covid factor (of course—what topic could possibly be immune from having a Covid factor?) A signature symptom of Covid is a supposedly temporary loss of taste and smell. I experienced this both times I had Covid and when I felt better, my taste and smell came back. But now I feel like it kind of comes and goes randomly.

Some days I eat something and I’m like “this has no taste whatsoever”. Scary. But then other days, my taste seems back to normal. As a chef and someone who makes a living smelling, tasting, and making food, I’m freaked out about the prospect of losing those senses or even having them at all diminished.

Not only is this scary from the propsect of losing my moneymaker, it taps into my greatest fears. Everyone’s greatest fears, I guess. Aging. Losing vitality. Losing my competency, my sharpness, my edge. Witnessing my skills and my best attributes diminish and lessen.

I’ve always considered myself to be a Person of Great Appetites. So all this has got me kind of feeling like a superhero that’s losing his special mojo or whatever.

Having a taste for the good life and pleasurable excesses, gustatory and otherwise, is an essential part of my self-identity. I’ve always seen myself as being the guy who’s the last one to leave the party, always ready to take the plunge, last to go to bed, never turned down a shot, always up for a spontaneous road (or acid) trip, ate whatever you served me, complimented the chef and asked for seconds. Loved every minute of it.

Now I’m slowing. I’m not motivated by fear of missing out cause I’ve had decades of cool experiences. I still enjoy all the things I’ve always enjoyed, but I don’t feel the need to get nuts or go all night anymore. I’m more discerning with my choices and with how I prioritize my time. Getting home by 10pm these days is as pleasurable for me as going out after 10pm was to my 20’s version of myself.

Actually, even more.

A natural progression, I suppose, but this is a major shift for me. What am I if I don’t have my Great Appetites anymore? Am I still large? Do I still contain multitudes?

Am I still me? That was my superpower!

I jokingly referred to my life-philosophy as Enlightened Hedonism. Have a great time, but don’t be a thoughtless prick about it. Never allow my dogged pursuit of a great time to screw over or harm anyone else. Don’t infringe on the ability of other people to pursue having their own great time. That’s basically how I approach my life.

Have as much fun as you can and do as much cool stuff as you can while you’re here, cause you won’t be here forever. Go where your passions lead you and immerse yourself in them, devote yourself to them, and share them with others. Be an ambassador of what moves you. Build a community of like-minded seekers of these pleasurable moments of life and recognize their meaning and significance when they happen. Simple. But not easy.

Maybe I’m still me but as my appetites decrease, the moments just don’t need to be quite as epic to be pleasurable. I guess that’s a good thing. The pleasures have gotten simpler.

A night home watching an episode of SVU from ten seasons ago in my sweats feels as indulgently decadent to me these days as working through a cheffy 12-course tasting menu with wine pairings did 20 years ago. It feels wild to admit it to myself, but there it is. Great Appetites Guy evolves to Old Simple Pleasures Man? I’ll take it I guess.

Can you relate? Is this what people refer to as “growing up” and I’m just finally getting around to doing it super late in life? Anyone else go through a similar evolution?