New Year’s Resolutions: Chew Your Food Better

Photo Illustration: By The Cut.Photo: Getty Images

I never really learned how to chew my food. It doesn’t mean you have to mix your meals into a fine paste or call for Heimlich several times a week to stay alive. But I take a Hoover-style approach and suck up everything on the plate before most people finish their first bite. My gullet becomes a luge truck, hurling full pieces of chicken at full speed. This is a technique that I honestly understand. My father went to boarding school. There, only the fastest eater could get him a 2 second prize. He hated wasting his time. I also appreciate ruthless productivity more than any form of relaxation to do everything quickly. I have always justified my feelings that I might.

But the reason I excel in hot dog eating contests is because I have really bad digestion. For a long time, I’ve accepted this basic discomfort as the price to pay for being a seasoned food athlete. is getting harder. So our goals for 2023 are pretty simple. It’s about feeding yourself like a baby bird and slowly decomposing it until it’s ready to eat.

It sounds easy, but there is a lot to overcome.one person, You approach your plate of ravioli with dog-like enthusiasm tearing up your owner’s most expensive heels and are really, really excited to eat it. I pass out in delicious bliss, and by the time I find myself engorged and grumpy, I’m berating myself for my lack of impulse control. During weekday lunch, I’m a computer zombie, shopping online, reading other people’s bad opinions, and shoving whatever I can get my hands on. I regularly commit the New York sin of eating on the subway, preying on the packs of crackers and sticks of beef jerky I always carry in my purse as a time-saving strategy. Any idea that it takes an hour to come. This is not France.

I have always blamed IBS for my bloating, gas and fatigue. I’ve blown into plastic tubes as part of a food allergy test and tracked what I’ve eaten for an elimination diet, all to no avail. Am I missing something? There is science to support my theory. Did you know that saliva, a by-product of chewing, produces enzymes that break down food and make it easier to digest? Chewing well also prevents heartburn and acid reflux. Nutritionist says I need to do it 32 times (!) per bite. Imagine your stomach as a suitcase. If you push the unfolded clothes all the way, they will swell or break. Stuffing can also lead to overeating. Because my body doesn’t have a chance to tell my brain, “I’m full.” Many of the articles I came across recommending chewing included the following amazing quote from an Austrian doctor: I am inspired to make a change, even if it is complete bullshit.

On a recent lunch date, looking down at an empty plate, I noticed my friend barely made a dent in her plate. It has a calm, soothing presence that allows you to pay attention to details like the smell of expensive soap or the feel of a well-made mug. I thought chewing might be the gateway to a more laid-back view in general. If savoring one ravioli for ten minutes turns out to be even more orgasmic than hovering ten ravioli in a row, what other hidden pleasures can you discover by stepping away from the clock? See? A walk to the subway doesn’t have to be a sprint. Baking in the afternoon might be more fun than frantically stuffing a Tupperware with store-bought cookies to make them look “homemade.” Is it the type that secretly enjoys nightlife on weekdays behind the scenes of anxiety and discipline?

But chew first. While you bastards are having his January dry, I’m going to force myself to eat without staring at Google Docs.Should I count the number of times I chew? Or get yourself to the point where you can eat in silence for an hour, like a monk who makes it a daily habit to contemplate chickpeas and lentils on his plate. At the next family dinner, the father barely recognizes the slow-eating daughter. Unless, of course, it’s a cheat day, you can bring Bucatini back to the mainline while staring at your phone.