Imagine for a moment what it would be like if every nerve ending in your skin were registering what you’re wearing right now—if you could really feel your clothing on every body surface it touches. Every area of your body would be sending sensory readings to your brain right now: “Scratchy—oh, friction!—soft cashmere there—watch band, left wrist—whoa! sock elastic—touching—touching again!—not touching—rubbing now.” Every second of the day. In fact, you probably can’t feel your watch band at all, unless you move your hand and think about it. And does the skin of your ankles feel your socks at this moment?
The human senses evolved as a system of protection for the body. If your nerve endings were busy all day long registering every sensation of your clothing on your skin, the truly dangerous or irritating, like sunburn, that scratchy label in your t-shirt, or a blister forming on your heel, would have to fight to make themselves known.
The body adapts to the banal in its surroundings in order to give priority to the novel, uncomfortable, painful, and poisonous. Adaptation occurs in the senses of hearing, smell, and taste, as well as touch: You may be overcome by the smell of a roast in the oven upon arriving at a friend’s house, but once you’ve been there a few minutes, you can’t smell it nearly as strongly. Your subconscious brain says, “Okay, I still get roast—still roast—still roast—Okay, forget about the roast, did someone just unwrap a Taleggio?” Thus, your sense of smell adapts to the roast and allows you to discover a stinky cheese.
With the sense of taste, adaptation can be more complicated, but it has great impact on how chefs construct their dishes, the order in which wines should be served, and which food and wine pairings are most successful. In future posts, I’ll write more about how adaptation affects successful gourmandizing.
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