Food Philosopher Extraordinaire: Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin

Food Philosopher Extraordinaire: Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin

In developing this series of articles on the gastronomic masters who have influenced my thinking, I had to begin with the obvious choice: Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin.  More than any other food writer, his provocative analysis of the senses inspired me to delve deeper into the subject, and reflect on the thoughts he so eloquently captured.  He is quoted more often than any other gastronome, and with good reason: The wit, sensibility, and pleasure-seeking tonality of his writing set the world on fire.  That the embers still burn nearly two hundred years later is a testament to his insights.  The very title of this magazine is a tribute to his legendary tome, The Physiology of Taste: Meditations on Transcendental Gastronomy.

What is highly compelling is that Brillat-Savarin was not a chef, but a lawyer.  His passionate exploration of food was purely recreational, and recorded via a stack of index cards that were ever-present in his breast pocket.  He was a reluctant author, however, and refused to publish his ruminations until he was near death — and insisted on doing so at his own expense, under a pseudonym.  He was afraid that his legal colleagues might find such ruminations a frivolous pursuit.

In eulogizing him, his closest friend wrote:

A man of great wit, a most agreeable dinner companion, and one endowed with measureless gaiety, he was the center of attraction in any gatherings fortunate enough to have his company, for he gave himself up willingly to the seductions of worldly society, and only spurned them when he could delight in the more intimate pleasures of true friendship (Physiology of Taste, 11).

Incidentally, Brillat-Savarin’s chief criticism of said friend was that he ate too fast.

It is the spirit with which this bon vivant approached the subject of gastronomy that poignantly captures why food can be an ethereal, profound source of pleasure.  One’s ability to enjoy flavors, aromas and textures on that intimate a level expresses a soulfulness and depth that permeates the rest of one’s existence.

In The Physiology of Taste, Brillat-Savarin offers a series of meditations on various aspects of the art of eating, each building upon the next to provide what is one of the most profound analyses on record of the experience.  Meditation 1, “On the Senses,” is an exploration of each sense and how it ultimately contributes to man’s well-being.  Compellingly, he treats sexual desire as an important sixth sense to man’s survival:

If taste, whose purpose is to enable a man to exist, is indisputably one of his senses, then how much more reasonable it is to call a sense that part of him destined to make mankind itself survive…Let us therefore give to physical desire the sensual position it is entitled to (28).


This distinction is an important one.  He equates man’s development as a sentient being with the development of the senses, and in tracking man’s progress from simply eating to survive to gourmandism, he says: “Soon one sense came to the aid of another and another, for the use and the well-being of the sentient ego, or, what is the same thing, the individual” (28).

According to Brillat-Savarin, due to man’s “perfectibility” (ability to evolve) he constantly seeks new heights in experiencing life on earth.  In such a quest for satiety, once survival has become more assured, man’s senses become a powerful tool of enjoyment.  By use of man’s mind, “he has made all nature submit to him; he has bent it to his pleasures, his needs, his whims; he has turned it upside down, and a puny biped has become lord of creation.”

In Meditation 2, “On Taste,” he states that “in moral man [taste] is the sensation which stimulates the organ in the center of his feeling which is influenced by any savorous body” (35).

I have recently considered this issue in depth, and find myself in agreement with Brillat-Savarin on several, but not all, levels.  Based on my theory, there is an inner “pleasure center” that is reachable via self-knowledge and mastery — and is a result of acute self-awareness.  Oddly enough, some are still able to experience extreme pleasure in food without said knowledge, but I offer the hypothesis that it is ultimately limited in its depth.  Sensual revelry is a celebration of self, and to experience that high a level of pleasure requires one to earn it — and know why one has earned it.

His thoughts later in the meditation have a similar intonation, where he discusses the building crescendo of flavor and aromatic impressions, equating them to experiencing harmony with the ear:

Taste is simple in its action, which is to say that it cannot receive impressions from two flavors at once…But taste can be double, and even multiple, in succession, so that in a single mouthful a second and sometimes a third sensation can be realized; they fade gradually, and are called aftertaste, perfume, or aroma…Men who eat quickly and without thought do not perceive the taste impressions on this second level, which are the exclusive perquisite of a small number of the chosen few; and it is by means of these impressions that gastronomers can classify, in the order of their excellence, the various substances submitted to their approval.

In other words, it is a man of thought who can truly savor such an experience; though my opinions on “men of thought” may be quite different from his, as I am speaking about a whole-body philosophical level of thought rather than that solely concerning the meal.

I will not belabor the rest of the meditations here save one, as I encourage you to explore them for yourself.  For me, what may be the most important in the series is Meditation 14, “On the Pleasures of the Table.”  He notes:

…at the end of a well-savored meal both soul and body enjoy an especial well-being (182).  This pleasure can be savored almost to the full whenever the four following conditions are met with: food at least passable, good wine, agreeable companions, and enough time (184).  If anyone has attended a party combining all these virtues, he can boast that he has known perfection, and for each one of them which has been forgotten or ignored he will have experienced the less delight (186).

Coincidentally, I discovered this passage after writing this month’s Kitchen Pantry article, “The Soul of a Cook.”  Though in it I speak more of cooking than dining, Brillat-Savarin’s musings reinforce what I had said about the joy that comes from sharing good food with good friends, and providing their sustenance.

The Physiology of Taste offers enough inspiration for reflection that one could easily write a tome on its influences.  Brillat-Savarin’s thoughts have provided me with a springboard for examining the sensual side of gastronomy, and its connection to the human spirit.  I look forward to sharing my findings with you as we continue our gastronomic journey together.