We seek out exotic pleasures because we aren’t very good at extracting pleasure from the things close to hand; easier to find something new that will give us a superficial jolt, than to look more deeply into something familiar in search of things you haven’t seen before. Worse, rather than treasuring new pleasures, we allow them to become commonplace through overindulgence and lack of appreciation, knowing that when we tire of this one there is always someone ready to sell us something even newer and more exotic.
I grew up eating authentic Mexican food in Texas and New Mexico, and learned to love and appreciate it. During the seven years I lived in New England, I ate a fair amount of less than authentic Mexican food. But unlike some of my friends who had cultivated a taste for it, the lack of authenticity never bothered me; all I asked myself was, is this good food? Just because it doesn’t qualify as an authentic taco doesn’t mean that a meat-filled corn tortilla can’t be enjoyed.
(Tangential anecdote: a professor in Knoxville was hosting a group of scholars visiting from Mexico City. At one point the visitors asked if they could go to a local mall, and the host obliged. Lunchtime came, they went to the food court, and ended up eating at Taco Bell. As they were eating, the host apologized for the food. A visitor replied, “Oh, no, this is fine–it’s exactly like the food we get at the Taco Bell back home.”)
The more you know about something, the easier it will be to enjoy it in all its manifestations. I’ve learned an awful lot about coffee in the past thirty years–how to brew it properly, how to tell by looking whether it’s been sitting on the hotplate too long, what different varieties taste like, what different roasts taste like, how to roast it at home using a modified popcorn popper. It has not only helped me to enjoy premium coffee, it has helped me to get more enjoyment out of canned ground coffee and the coffee served at fast-food restaurants, by appreciating it for what it is.
Chris and I often find ourselves listening to a day’s worth of local live bluegrass and old-time music. If you heard it on the radio, you wouldn’t be impressed, and would probably go looking for something that was played by highly paid professionals and recorded by highly paid engineers. We have learned and continue to learn to enjoy it for what it is. We like to hear old musicians who aren’t as proficient as they used to be, just like we like looking at our aged relatives and seeing signs of the handsomeness or beauty that was once fully there. We like listening to folks who are only good enough to garner a small local following; we enjoy their pleasure in playing for us, we enjoy their fans’ enjoyment, and we enjoy simple music played sincerely.
The kids like it when Dad reads aloud to them. His voices and accents are not nearly as good as he thinks they are, and that’s part of the fun. He’s enthusiastic, and that’s a bigger part of the fun. He loves his kids enough to do something that is potentially awkward and silly-sounding, and that’s the biggest part of the fun. Given the choice between seeing the Lord of the Rings movies or hearing a recording done by professional actors, versus having Dad read them the trilogy–well, it’s no real choice at all.
Simple tastes are not necessarily shallow tastes. Do your best to go deep, and let the resulting richness crowd out unwise desires.
