This can't possibly be more sensual if it heaped on 6 ounces of the most potent perfumes and paraded around in furs and flowers. This weekend, I found myself amidst 6 friends, heaps of organic meat, loads of b-b-q sauce, no utensils, no electricity and first-time-out-on-the-barbeque as head chef. I have eaten loads of grilled things in my life but never commanded the whole show myself. Oh how life is good with laughter of loved ones and dead-chicken-that-was-hopefully-treated-warmly and direct contact with food.
Now, I know that most people that know me can attest to my rather...barbaric, at best, table manners - but I do think this stems from a desire to fully integrate with what I am consuming. I find utensils to be a sad means to a bitter end, and I have always appreciated cultures where you don't waste time with bits of metal getting in the way of a good meal. I know I would still be eternally laughed at for my uncouth behaviours with or without accessory at the dinner table on a worldwide level, and perhaps that is something I will, in do time, fix.
But oh the sensual-ness of feeling the heat of food on one's hands, to be able to commune more directly with the fruits of the earth. It makes for better tasting food, and a (I suspect) more direct interest in what you're about to digest. And to be at a table surrounded by those doing the same, and the warmth of a glow of candle. Fills you right up before you've even taken a mouthful.
