I’ve heard repeatedly that one of the reasons I should quit smoking is that I will get my sense of taste back.  It’s never been a very motivating factor to me; those that know me are aware that I’m both a picky eater and a survivalist.  I’m rarely a fan of eating; food goes in when I’m hungry, and it’s really only enough to make me not hungry.  If it weren’t for the need to eat to survive, I probably wouldn’t.  I do, if rarely, really appreciate a good meal (it requires a really fine and out-of-my-budget chef or a unique experience for me to really stimulate the taste buds).  So it’s not that I don’t enjoy food — it’s that people insist on putting onions and celery into every single recipe in the world.

Last night, though, I had an experience with a simple burger and a side of steamed cabbage. Fascinating, really how much taste some things in the world have.  The burger wasn’t any real surprise,except that I was suddenly eating in 3D — the only comparison that I can offer is to wander around for 20 years with a gray filter in your glasses, and then remove the filter gradually but in stages.  It’s intense. Seriously, not unlike eating while on LSD — every taste was distinct and separate in my mouth, but together.  I could identify each and every one, even through the blend.
Oh, and I’m no longer on the fence about mayonnaise. Keep that shit off my sandwiches in the future, thanks.

Of course, taste doesn’t walk alone.   Why couldn’t my vision have cleared up, or maybe my hearing gotten even more intense?  That would have been cool.  But no, what I find is that I’m smelling things more clearly with each passing day, and I have to say: no, thanks, but the thought sure is considerate. It could be worse, of course — I could be in New York, smelling dead bodies and urine (apologies to Bill Hicks).  But discovering that your coworkers wear too much cologne (or haven’t showered since January) is not the best way to celebrate kicking the habit.

Also, as much as I love it, cabbage smells like Irish death.  If they cook this shit that often, I can understand my ancestral alcoholism.