I've been thinking a lot about comfort food. When I was younger, I remember my mother pouring me a chocolate drink that she said was from her childhood. She told me that my father and she had loved it and she hoped I would to. I don't remember what that drink was (it wasn't any of the normal brands) but I remember enjoying it a lot. That wasn't what interested me though. My father walked by and I offered him a sip of the drink. His reaction is burned into my memory.
He politely lifted the glass, smiled at me, and took a sip. His face ticked and he cupped the glass tightly. He drank the entire chocolate drink, ecstasy dancing on his face. My father, a very composed and stoic person, had a moment of pure joy. He thanked me, hugged my mother, and walked off to his office. My mother and I stared at each other. She smirked and told me that my dad had liked that drink a lot when he was a child.
So when all the diet pundits and nutrition addicts talk about how bad it is to tie food to emotions, I think of my father. If a small drink that reminded him of his childhood could give him so much pleasure, could it really be so bad?