Have you ever tried to explain something and just found yourself at a loss for words? When this happens to me, and if a boy ever does it, I've found a solution without words and with sounds. I know how effective it is because everyone miraculously knows precisely what I am trying to say with my sound, and later… asks me to do it again. It could make complete sense or be complete nonsense, but somehow immediately a sound does the vernacular's job, just exponentially better.
It isn't that there aren't words for it, but it's visionary. There are the indescribables that are perfectly packaged in one's brain—endorsing the need for a telepathic way to communicate it.
Howard Moskowitz is one of those people where this connection didn't happen immediately. His story is delivered beautifully in a Ted Talk given by Malcolm Gladwell. Gladwell is that person that every high school wants to write their college essay. He was supposed to write about his new book, then happiness, and manages to do so, by breaking down the fundamentals of our dearly beloved—spaghetti sauce. I wrote my essay on Honey Nut Cheerios and thought I was clever, but no. To sum up what Moskowitz did and what Gladwell wanted to say is that, "there is no perfect Pepsi just perfect Pepsis, and there is no perfect pickle, just perfect pickles."
Now, there are no pickles in spaghetti sauce, and Moskowitz is duly noted as a psychophysicist, not a food taste tester. So, he may not be the most reliable in theory, but he did prove that the answers we look for are indeed found in the sauce, as the people in "Fried Green Tomatoes" say.
However, Howard got his doctorate from Harvard…haha Howard, Harvard. Anyway, we can always trust a Harvard man to explain these indescribables in the most straightforward, relatable way.
What we can get from his epiphany and declaration is that there is no one answer—there is no one thing that will make all sauce consumers, pickle enthusiasts, and groundbreaking mustard seekers happy. Which emphasizes the diversity along with the diverse palate of the American people, and often we do not even know what it is we want until a wonderful new option is presented to us.
As Malcolm puts it, chunky spaghetti sauce is Moskowitz's gift to the American people. And as I thought about it, I do prefer textured, chunky sauce. Thin sauce is the Italian way, and by heritage, I am Italian, but give me a sweet tomato, and I will shove all of that heritage to the side while browsing the grocery store.
What chunky spaghetti sauce did for America, and really the world, was giving is this paradox of choice. We are drowning in choices whether it is a selection of Chik-fil-a sauces or where to go to college, and this was a blessing and a curse.
While having an infinite number of choices, we supplement an ever-changing way to fulfill nourishment, but then the distaste of not knowing what we may want.
All the choices paralyze many people, but like Howard and I, I tell you to find your own solution. The answer is somewhere; there is no secret formula. We aren't at the Krusty Krab, but chances are that the answers are in the sauce.
