Flash Fiction February 09: Food

Have you ever heard of food blindness?

You probably heard of face blindness, right? Prosopagnosia is a neurological condition meaning a person can’t make out details in faces, can’t distinguish between different face, and/or can’t recognise a face is even a face and not a bacon-cheese omelet.

You might be salivating at the that last concept there but I wouldn’t know. I know of the concept. I’ve read stories and seen movies where a character craves a food item so much their mouth starts producing excess drool with no conscious control. But it never happened to me. I have food blindness.

What does that mean? Exactly what you think it means. I can’t distinguish between different tastes. Sour, sweet, salty, bitter, umami, nothing. No, it doesn’t mean everything tastes like chicken or ash. I don’t even know how those taste. Have you tried licking not dirty, not freshly cleaned glass? Can you tell me what water tastes like? Exactly. that’s what I mean. It’s nothing.

My friends sometimes gush over how this hamburger is so good, how this is the best fruit salad they ever ate, or how I should try real Champagne or real gelato, but it doesn’t make a difference. I wish it would. It seems like I’m missing a big part of life and it always makes me a bit sad when we go out to dinner, to celebrate, just to have fun, to enjoy life… and food.

But, you know what?

I dominate spicy-eating competitions.


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