Tasteless

 I was in the middle of a 10-day Covid isolation period when the deadline for this month’s travel issue was looming. As much as I wanted to pull together a column that waxed lyrical about how my favourite way to travel is through my stomach, I found myself experiencing the fascinating phenomenon: the complete absence of taste. 

For someone whose job it is to taste food and make something meaningful of it, by day three, I was both intrigued and disheartened. It was the most bizarre experience to have a familiar ingredient on my tongue and not be able to differentiate whether it was an orange, lemon, or mandarin. 

I’ve always savoured the food I eat. Friends often comment about how slowly and thoughtfully I consume each meal. I’m genuinely interested in the nuances of flavour, and textures and temperature. The tingly sensations of Sichuan pepper, the chew of thick noodles, and the way the addition of sea salt flakes on a dark chocolate cookie balances the bitter cocoa, making it sweeter and even more chocolatey. 

Upon googling ‘how do I get my taste back?’ at 4.50am, I discovered that losing your taste is most often a result of losing your smell. When we eat, the flavour molecules are carried from our mouth into our olfactory receptors, found in our nose – it’s here that they are perceived as taste. 

I also stumbled upon the idea of scent training, where you inhale strong and aromatic foods like citrus, peppermint, ginger, and peanut butter for 10-20 seconds each day. I started making my way around the pantry, sniffing the peanut butter jar, taking spoonfuls of mint choc chip ic e cream, and making very gingery lemon drinks. Tangy citrus, strong mānuka honey, and even wasabi (with its intense nose-tingling burn) gave me some experience of a sensation. I could taste if something was sweet, sour, salty, or bitter, but I couldn’t differentiate the characteristics that set each ingredient apart. 

Taste isn’t all about flavour. Texture and mouthfeel play a big part as well. I discovered a new appreciation for varying textural sensations. Everything from the crunch of corn chips, chocolate melting on my tongue, and the bite of a fresh carrot to the grinding of roasted cashew nuts between my teeth. 

Despite feeling some sensation, without any complexity or detail, anything I ate felt dull and unsatisfying because it didn’t match up with how my brain remembered it should. If you, too, have been plagued by the loss of taste or smell through this Covid saga, you’ll understand exactly what I mean. Safe to say, when my ability to taste returns, I’ll be stoked.