Return of the Tastebuds
Updated: Sep 25, 2021
My taste came back!
What a moment.
I had hoped to be in the middle of something mind-blowingly delicious when it returned.
Maybe some seared scollops with a jalapeno vinaigrette.
Or a big, fuck-off Wagon Wheel.
It was neither of those things.
I’d spotted half a squashed banana that the kids had left. And I wasn’t even hungry.
But I hate to see good food wasted.
Not that this was *good* food, particularly. This banana was in a bad way. It looked like it’d been taken hostage by the other fruit and spent the last fortnight chained to a radiator.
So let me rephrase that – I hate to see *any* food wasted.
Sometimes I’m convinced I was a Victorian street urchin in a past life. Fighting for scraps of food and going to bed hungry.
Some of us believe they once lived as Alexander the Great or Anne Boleyn.
But not me.
In my previous incarnation I was a malnourished, gutter-dwelling ragamuffin from the 1800’s.
Defo.
Either that or I’m just a fat bastard.
Anyway.
I grabbed this brow-beaten banana and whacked it in my pie hole.
And that’s when it happened.
The flavour hit my tongue and my tastebuds broke into a moshpit.
‘OH GOD!’
My wife thought I was having a heart attack.
‘Christ, babe – are you okay?’
I pointed at my face. It was contorting like the arse end of a week-long ket bender.
‘ARE YOU HAVING A STROKE? I’LL PHONE AN AMBULANCE’
‘NO!’
I gripped the kitchen surface.
‘MMMM…I’m fine’
‘What is it then?’
‘THIS FUCKING BANANA IS UNREAL!’
She sighed and went back to her laptop.
I leaned against the fridge, revelling in my fruity paradise.
Having not tasted anything in two weeks, I actually doubted whether this was a normal, everyday banana.
It tasted TOO good.
Surely this banana wasn’t from Aldi? The flavour seemed otherworldly.
Maybe it was straight from heaven? Or at least Sainsbury’s.
I hadn’t felt this much pleasure since somebody smugly claimed I was in their seat on a busy train but I was able to categorically (and even more smugly) prove them absolutely wrong with my pre-booked seat reservation.
Table seat, too.
Glorious.
But it’s amazing the effect it has when you lose a sense that you take for granted.
I once had a business meeting with a wonderful lady who’d been profoundly deaf for twenty years. Technological advances meant she’d recently been fitted with the most incredible, state-of-the-art hearing implants that also had Bluetooth. She’d been able to beam MP3’s directly into her ears and hear music properly for the first time in two decades.
Naturally she went back to the music she’d loved before she lost her hearing.
Which is probably what we’d all do, right?
Problem was, her musical obsession before she became deaf was Simply Red.
And this very well spoken lady went on to describe to me in great detail how ‘absolutely fucking shite’ they sounded nowadays.
Ha!
So my taste is back and I’m very grateful. I know there’s some of you out there who’ve struggled for yours to return. I wish you the best of luck.
At least I wasn’t in Greggs when it happened. Groaning in pleasure by the bread rolls. Knocking into customers while I sucked off a Steak Bake.
That would not have been dignified.
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