Some things have not changed: adequate food is still a basic need; we still need fuel and lots of it to keep going; and we are still motivated to seek and consume it. But there are two situations that kick our motivation into high gear: starvation and surplus. When we experience a sudden or dramatic decrease in calories, the alarm bells in our brains immediately begin clamoring. We think we’re starving. This is one of the reasons we react so negatively to diets. The body and brain often interpret a diet as self-imposed starvation and respond with immediate and vigorous protests in the form of hunger pangs, cravings, and overall preoccupation with food. What is strange is that it isn't only deprivation that kicks up the inner drive to eat and eat; it is also abundance.
How can this be?
Human history is strongly linked to the seasons. During the summer and early fall food was probably plentiful with lots of lush vegetation and well-fattened animals. If humans had eaten only what they needed, it is unlikely that they could have stored sufficient fat to last them through the winter. So, as a safety precaution, their brains encouraged them to gorge on food while it was plentiful and to return as soon and often as possible to feast again.
Leap ahead to the twenty-first century. For most of us, seasonal starvation is a thing of the past, and abundance has no season. It is like an endless summer when it comes to food—a veritable pleasure island of plentiful, readily available, yummy things to eat. Our new brain knows that, but our old brain is still acting on intuitive signals. Feel hungry? Eat. Too much food? Eat more.
Where is our new brain when we need it? Will we always be at the mercy of the insatiable little muncher in our primitive brain? Fortunately, the answer is no. But just as our ancestors had to put their brainpower to work to become the hunter instead of the hunted, it is time for us to put our cortex in control.
Rather than adapt to our environment, we need to exert some control over it. We don’t have to respond to every impulse. Unless we develop new habits, our brains will tell us to keep eating for a winter that never comes. Most chefs and restaurant critics, who are surrounded by food at every turn, have trained their brains to understand that scarcity—fear of insufficient food—is extremely unlikely. They don't allow their eating to be controlled by the bratty, primitive part of their brains. We can do that, too, by putting our cortex in control.
It's time for the thinking part of our brains to pull up a chair at the feast and inject a bit of civility. It hurts a lot less then starvation; and, before we know it, our mad little muncher will become a mindful gourmet.
