Gourmet or Gourmand?
by Jennifer Iannolo
People often ask me why I would choose to call myself a gourmand instead of a gourmet. After all, a gourmet is a “connoisseur of fine wine and food,” while the definition of a gourmand evokes thoughts of gluttony. The dictionary listing is as follows:
gourmand: (g oo r-mänd) n. 1. A lover of good food. 2. A gluttonous eater.
Now, for most people, the second meaning is the one often taken to heart. Normally I would not associate myself with the implication of such uncontrolled hedonism, however there is one part of that definition that makes my soul sing: gluttony implies greed.
I am indeed greedy when it comes to the pleasures of the palate, and while I don’t participate in overindulgence, I do wish to satisfy my senses in any way possible. There is a radiant greed sparked within me as I snatch a tomato from the vine, eager to spill its juices across my plate. The same greed applies to the champagne I will bring to a family gathering – only those who are worthy may partake of the sparkling elixir.
On Sunday I walked into my mother’s kitchen as she was preparing meatballs. Nothing captures me like their garlicky essence, and I had to have one, right then and there. She had lovingly put aside a bowl of them just for me, and I literally swooned as I tasted the first one. There are no words to capture that moment, aside from “gastronomic orgasm” — the kind that makes your head spin and your eyes roll.
I guarded my precious bowl like a Doberman, baring my teeth as each of my brothers dared to come near it. There is no room for sharing in such a moment.
French author James de Coquet drew some interesting parallels between such greed and love, as well as lust. In his book A letter to gourmets, gourmands, gastronomes, and gluttons about their behaviour at table and in private, he makes some scintillating connections:
Having a hearty appetite for life, you are fond of everything.
They say people who kiss a lot were gluttons as babies.
Pornography can be taught, but not erotism. Contrary to what many people think, it is above all the exaltation of a feeling.
The pleasures of the table and those of love are closely linked.
The land of love is certainly the one where the gourmand can satisfy his greed to the best.
What a bon vivant and sensualist. In accordance with all of de Coquet’s points, I suppose I could thus call myself a gourmand of existence, for such celebrations of greed are far too delicious to be relegated solely to the dinner table.
But most significantly, de Coquet implied that such a greed is not unqualified — it is not random and thoughtless, but much closer to Rand’s definition of sensuality — “a fine discrimination of the spirit.”
I think many SOLOists would agree.
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