Do It Yourself

Regardless of the quality of the final product, people like to do things for themselves. Many fathers would rather sit on a shaky three legged stool handcrafted by their teenage son in woodshop class instead of buying a commercial stool. Most men want to trust their instincts to find directions instead of consulting a map. Some people like to draw personalized birthday cards instead of opting for the store bought variety. When hard work goes into something, it just seems more special.

            The same principle applies to food. The harder you work to obtain your food and prepare you meal, the better it tastes. Somehow the effort that you put into your meal magically seeps into the food and gives it an extra kick. Take crab legs for an example. These are often regarded as one of the finest delicacies in the culinary world. But the tasty meat is encased in a rock hard shell that was created specifically to keep hungry mouths away. It takes a frustrating ordeal of bloody fingers and squirting juices to pry out a single ounce of the white meat. When you slide that tiny piece of succulent flesh into your mouth, your taste buds explode and you savor every millisecond of delicious goodness. The painstaking finger slicing maneuvers to procure that little piece of tastiness greatly contributed to the mental sensations of taste. Have you ever had a heaping mound of pre pealed crab meat? No, you probably haven’t. People don't want it that way. You would get more meat in your belly, but the experience wouldn't be as wickedly delightful. For some reason, it wouldn't be as good.

            I have reaffirmed my belief in this illogical human tendency during my eating experiences in Chuuk. The cuisine of isolated islands is not much to brag about and no food channel specials will ever be done about Chuuk, but I have had some wonderful dining experiences because of the work that has gone into the meals. When you chase a fish through the ocean and stab it with your own spear, the fried slivers of soft meat are amazingly tasty. When you spend 7 hours transforming breadfruit into pounded loaves, each bite gives you great pleasure. When you raise and take care of a pig for a year, it butchered flesh is all the juicer.

            When I go back to America, this feeling of self-subsistence will probably fade away after my first trip to grocery store. The immediate gratification of buying a block of cheese and a slab of bacon will probably outweigh the pleasure I would get by curdling my own cheese and butchering my own pig. Eating perfectly grilled steak and masterly sliced sashimi at a restaurant will probably make me forget all about the joy of chasing my lunch with a spear. But for now, when I have no choice but to work hard for my food, I will take solace in the fact that it is a little bit tastier because it was hard to get.