The Pizza's Aroma Hugged Me Like a Warm Blanket

Last week, one of my favorite bakeries reopened.

It’s a neighborhood co-op I’ve been going to for decades that closed in mid-March due to the pandemic.

I quickly ordered one of their half-baked pizzas. I had been craving their pizza for months and wanted to ensure I got one before they sold out.

As I baked it later that evening, the distinctive aroma of its sourdough crust wafted through my apartment.

My body responded as if it was being hugged by a warm blanket.

The aroma transported me to a time years ago when I frequently picked up one of the bakery’s pizzas to bake for dinner.

It was a time in my life when things felt simpler, less uncertain, less heartbreaking.

I was struck by how much just the smell of the pizza comforted me—even more than its taste, which I also quite savored. 

Of course, it didn’t take away my sadness, anger, pain and uncertainty.

But, for a brief moment, it did provide some much-needed comfort.

Demonized by Diet Culture
Despite its tremendous power to soothe, diet culture has demonized comfort food.

It has taught us to feel bad, guilty, weak or ashamed when we turn to it to navigate tough times.

As a result, we often feel we have to justify our desires, hide our eating, and make up for our “food sins.”

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Rightful Coping Tool
Food’s ability to soothe our mind, body and soul is something to embrace and celebrate.

Providing comfort is just one of the many roles it plays in our lives, one of the many ways it meets our needs, and one of the many gifts it gives us.

For many of us, food is an easily accessible coping mechanism—one that has a rightful place in our emotional coping toolkit.