An Ode to Safe Foods: THE MENU

Before diving into what are even "safe foods" and exploring what makes someone's safe foods particularly "safe", I think it's important that we start with this question: What does safety mean to you? For a lot of people, feelings of familiarity, routine, and even blandness, can be associated with our understanding of what is comforting or comfortable. For me personally, what comes to mind when I think of myself genuinely living, and surpassing the need to just survive, visuals spread across the darkened walls of my mind spring not from an active imagination, but from a memorized game of SIMS 4; Formulas, or rather computerized sequences of my own obvious control, are rather important to me. However, nothing compares to the warm arms of Predictability. I gobble knowing and I want it, in everything. In my morning walks. In my chronological, Spotify playlists. And I especially, especially want it present in my food. Stimming, in a way, with a satiating and a sensory-explosive experience on my tongue.

Does that particularly mean that I am motivated only towards sweetened things? Not exactly. The bitterness from a hunk of winter kale, of a simmering diner pot of black coffee, does not necessarily propose a challenge to withstand their astringent French kiss but rather doubles down on its promise to always make my throat quiver; joyful eating is an intimate bargain made only by the person who balances the choice to upchuck or swallow their daring choice of meats. Buttered noodles, plain toast, and other beige foods are delicacies amongst the most stereotyped of autistic people, however, ignoring that even an egg over easy, un-glossed without a smear of hot-sauce, misses the opportunity for any phlegm-clearings and spiced certainty. To each his own, but my own is a knife covered in garlic and onion. Although, I should admit that my safety was first found in a plate of ketchup and potato chips. Trix yogurt, as well.

So what are safe foods for the autistic community? I've heard from others like me, looking for a comforting set of tastes and textures, along with speed, temperature, and sometimes even an environment, are some of the key tenants toward the finalizing and drafting of safe foods into your routine. And the reliability we come to expect, as well as our trust continuously re-affirmed, is not merely just an act of celebrating convenience. Nor is it that autistic people are just "lazy" and unimaginably reaching for the most reachable of foods. Rather than thinking about safe foods as a somewhat limiting and "immature" array of palettes, I'd first argue that A. Every human, whether they are neurodivergent or not, has their particular comforts. and B. So then why is it so strange for autistic people to acquire those comforts? Does perhaps the judgment for someone, maybe enjoying a hot bag of frozen dinosaur nuggets, more have to do with the person eating it, rather than if that same meal was devoured by a half ironic, half sardonic self-proclaimed "Foodie"? Are repeated meals only considered a habit of the childish or the unwell if it's not a green matcha, yogurt gut-bacteria smoothie, or tasteless oatmeal?

When I saw The Menu (2022)(dir. Mark Mylod)) I couldn't resist making a whole ordeal out of it; at my local small theater, I ordered dinner and ate some fantastic fungi flatbread surrounded by what seemed like some very unhappy and stuffy members of the theater who constantly complaining about either their reservations, the quality of sound, etc. Given what happens in The Menu, the slow torture of a bunch of pompous social lite gluttons, you could not believe how, for once, actually grateful I was to sit next to some similarly rude and ungrateful patrons, solely for the purpose of expanding my immersive experience like it was my own stilted, fusty version of a Rocky Horror Picture Show - The Menu, by the way, is seriously so funny. I don't think I've laughed that hard in a theater since I saw Everything Everywhere All at Once earlier this year. This is a must-watch, especially if you love self-eating, dark comedies. And truthfully, not at all scary, even though it was marketed as a chef-centered, maybe a cult?, horror movie.

I don't believe I'm being hyperbolic when I say that that's the exact snobbery some neurotypical people exhibit while criticizing the eating choices of, well, anyone, but especially autistic people's food. How entitled does one feel to someone else's existence to confidently and snidely comment on what goes into that person's mouth? In my pettiness, I like to imagine the outrage a fatphobic, neurotypical person would feel if I openly infantilized their meals in the break room in front of their coworkers, or otherwise denounce their choices during a family gathering, or maybe speak loudly about their lack of nutritional habits by simplifying the major food groups back to them Or, or rather I non-consently suggest my own diet plan as a replacing alternative; the consequence would obviously result in a revisiting of my social skills and awareness. A very hilarious and common move made by others who commonly and blindly offend their own social rectitudes.

I am taking a Winter Solstice break from the blog! See you all in the new year <3333.