I take a photo of every meal I eat. Or, the ones I subconsciously deem “important meals.” The ones that, when I scroll through my camera roll, I want to look back on.
There’s no real quantifier for an important meal. I take photos of the feasts my mom cooks on the big holidays. Prime rib, ham, deviled eggs, ribeyes, creamed spinach, chicken wings, shrimp, mac & cheese, potstickers, chicken tenders—anything and everything you can think of, we have. I love those meals (even if they make me have to work off a few extra pounds).
I take pictures of the birthday cakes, whether they’re from Sweet Eats or Shoprite. All are equally important. They represent another year we’ve gotten through—have persevered, even when it seemed like the world would end.
I take photos of food from my favorite restaurants. I swear I have more photos of my food from Panera Bread and Oki Maki than I do of my own family. Sometimes they’re from a big event, like going to the Mudhen in Wildwood or Texas Roadhouse, but sometimes they’re from something small, like eating at Panch with my friends.
I take photos of the food I eat on vacation. It always brings me there, like I’m back in Sarasota, eating a chocolate-y ice cream in a waffle cone after a long day of swimming and fishing.
The Christmas cookies me and my mom bake every year. It’s not like the recipes ever change, and the photos are often taken in the same exact place. But we still take them. Year after year.
I’m not quite sure when or why I started doing this. Maybe I wanted to make sure I didn’t forget. Nothing ever stays the same. Food is the only constant.
I want to keep reminiscing, to be able to go back to that sushi burrito, or pork sandwich. These photos are the only way I can permanently capture these glimpses in time before they evaporate from my memory.
I’m scared that I’ll forget the taste of my mom’s chicken pasta with vodka sauce, or pork and sauerkraut. That I’ll forget just how juicy that steak was at Brian’s graduation. How that chocolate-strawberry-banana cake on my 15th birthday was so refreshing on that hot summer day.
These photos are my safe haven — a reminder that, no matter how far I go, I’ll always be able to go back. The food on my table may never be guaranteed, but these photos guarantee that they will never flicker from my memory.
