Smells and Bells

  I accompany my Chase Dining Hall meals with a TV show (Hulu, because Netflix has caught onto the fact that I’m not in my hometown any more) and recently it’s been The Great — a dramatized and sillified adaptation of the life of Catherine the Great, because I have developed an addiction to powered wigs and panniers— and in it is a scene where she is attempting to seduce a prospective conspirer. Beforehand, her maid gives her the advice to “eat the oysters. They’ll help your mood.” Of course, the man picks up none of her signals, and the oysters are spoiled. So, because in Natural History of the Senses Ackerman pays so much attention to sexy food, I want to try to explore unsexy food, inspired by the Empress of Russia puking oysters. Apologies for the ridiculousness.  Some of Ackerman’s reasoning is all to do with the earthiness of food. “Food is created by the sex of plants or of animals; and we find it sexy. When we eat an apple or peach, we are eating the fruit’s placenta”...

                 I tend to be awkward with touch, because I don’t want to risk making anyone else uncomfortable, and I was even more so as a little girl. Especially at elementary school age, certain rituals of touch are necessary to preserve friendships: if such things as hugs, cuddles, hair braiding, the physical exchange of friendship bracelets, or painting others’ nails don’t come naturally to you, you will be at risk of failing a good many social interactions.    Some friends are touchier than others, which likely starts in the home somewhat. Certain cultures are known for being more touchy and physically affectionate, and It’s usually parents that are the first people to be with us in painful situations to teach us how to react and how afraid to be. It would make sense that my mother and I were able to have a conversation agreeing completely about how much it peeves us when someone is talking to us and gives us a little li...