Perfection

What is it and why are we so obsessed with finding perfection in every aspect of our own existence. The perfect relationship, perfect job, perfect food, perfect life. Truth is that as human beings we always look forward to what is impossible and unrealistic for us. Perfection is unachievable in this world and the constant hunt for it develops a morbid and unhealthy dependence on results as a measure of our own value. Trivial desires get lost on the way, as they won't help to reach the goal. With them humanity gets lost; we become more like machines and less driven by feelings. Love for what we do doesn't mean as much as 'be the best at what we do'.

Or at least that's what it looks like on the surface.

Since High School, I always loved to think one step further and try to climb the building to have a different perspective. So what is it about the obsession for perfection? On the way to perfection, we learned to enjoy the closest hints of it. But that simply means finding beauty in what, at the end of the day, is imperfection. And it is in this that everything we work for comes down like a cards castle. We do realize that a woman's body cannot be perfect by definition. But we enjoy it. We enjoy the irregular shape of their nose, we enjoy the silky pleasure of messy hair on our face. Those hands that rotate around, finding their way to our cheeks, freezing them at the beginning, but for then leave space to a warmth that persuades us to let our restrictions fly away and just fall into their arms. There, where even the giants want to rest, we find feeling with every sense that we are alive. We touch the smooth and velvety thighs, we smell peaches and vanilla in their perfumes, we hear them singing and like Ulysses we decide to abandon ourselves to the sirens, we see them in all their beauty and in all their shyness to expose their bodies. We love them. We love the imperfections we see and we love those we don't see. 

Imperfections are also in a fine wine, aged for years, where oxygen ruined the freshness of the wine but enhanced other aromatic compounds. That red vivid color developed and twisted in different shades until that intense brick red that we can see nowadays. Is it perfect? Perhaps not, but it is still one of the best voluptuous pleasures drunk with a rare fillet mignon on the side. 

So it is food. Chefs nowadays always look for the perfect combinations of flavors and plating techniques. The perfect quenelle and the ability to replicate the same movement over and over again having always the same exact results. In a professional environment, it comes natural, as we want to always be at the top of our game in serving the guests. But that is not what most of the people love about food. Having in front of me a perfect plate that looks dead it's not filling me with desire. Cooking mustn't become a factory exercise. Cooking and eating can be art, and it is indeed an art of imperfection. It's a craft of knowledge, passion, and feelings. In every dish, a Chef should put his past, present and future. Me as a guest I want to eat and understand what is the story of this meal, I want to have memories from my past passing by and flashing me like thunders in a hot summer. The imperfections are what make it real, what will make it unforgettable. A slightly runny ice cream with strawberries will make for a much more interesting and playful meal. It will create memories that otherwise would just be linked with good food... But who remembers those ones?...

We eat with eyes too, and as a woman, a course mustn't be perfect. 

Perfection is overrated.