Hetero
Wait for it...
I’m a massive hetero.
That’s right, I said it. I love heterogeneous foods. And I like women too, I guess.
“But what is a heterogeneous food?” you might ask, if you were a disembodied voice in my head whose only purpose was to lob me softballs.
By my definition, a heterogeneous food is one that has some ingredients arranged in an uneven or randomized distribution to create some parts with different concentrations of flavours and textures. Literally a mixed bag. Some bites are fresh and bright, others are spicy and zesty. Every now and then you get a random crunch coming out of left field to keep you on your toes. Each part of the dish has its own personality, and its own idiosyncrasies.
A good comparison: think of minestrone versus tomato soup.
The simple fun with heterogeneity is that every bite tastes a little bit different from the last. One spoonful will be slightly more sour, a bit less oily, somewhat sweeter, or perhaps a little crunchy. The meal becomes a choose-your-own-adventure story that can take you down a variety of different paths. It’s using the entire keyboard of a piano instead of playing “Chariots of Fire.”
So how do we add a little heterogeneous mayhem into our food?
A splash of fresh cream or olive oil in soup (against all instincts, do not stir)
A squeeze of lemon juice over some roasted veggies right before serving
Potato chips on a sandwich. If you know, you know.
Leaving some ingredients intact instead of blending them into oblivion
Resisting the urge to spread condiments with perfect uniformity
Cracking fresh black pepper over literally anything
I should give a caveat: this post is not an indictment of homogeneous foods. Everyone’s preferences are valid when it comes to something as subjective as personal taste.
And it would be especially unfair of me to criticize people who like homogeneous foods, given that most of you are below the age of seven.
I jest. Mostly.
But it makes sense to me why children love foods that are completely one-dimensional. I wasn’t always tantalized by heterogeneity. I have distinct memories of craving the simplest foods as a kid. I wanted inoffensive textures, easily identifiable flavours, all served at a reasonable temperature. I wanted each bite to be exactly like the last.
So much of a child’s life is full of chaos. Adults telling them where to go and what to do, new people entering and exiting their lives on the daily, and rules appearing out of thin air. I understand their craving for predictability in their diet. It’s no surprise why all they want are hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, and canned tomato soup. They wouldn’t appreciate German sausage with sauerkraut. They’re not emotionally calibrated for cacio e pepe. And God forbid their tomato bisque have some fresh basil strewn throughout.
I think one of my biggest challenges I’ll face when I become a father is that I’m going to need to reduce the heterogeneity of my food by an order of magnitude to make it palatable for my kids. I’ll have to resist the urge to top my eggs with crispy chili oil. My salads with toasted breadcrumbs. My grilled vegetables with fried shallots.
My own father once brilliantly observed that “the degree to which your kids will enjoy the food you cook is inversely proportional to the amount of effort you take to make it.” The more you slave over a hot stove adding depth and complexity to a dish, the more likely it is they will turn their nose up at it.
That’s gonna be one hell of a test.
Hey, would you like to see me make one of your favourite foods?
I’m offering a special promotion to my first 20 paid subscribers: tell me your favourite dish, then I’ll cook it and make an exclusive post about it! Paid subs will have access to all other requested posts made this way. Subscribe to claim your spot!
Hilarious to hear that that saying stuck with you!