The taste of authenticity?


The other day I was about to wash a spoon with honey in it.  I decided it would be easier to wash if I simply ‘drank’ the honey.  “Wow, amazing, this is what real honey tastes like! Delicious!” – that was my immediate thought.  The taste reminded me of times long gone by when I was a child – forty years ago.

How is it that I have been eating honey, almost daily, for the last year and yet I had not distinguished the fake stuff from the real stuff.  So I took a look at the authentic honey and noticed that it comes from France and it is not made by a big mass manufacturer.  No, it is made by a unknown person living somewhere in France.  And my wife probably picked it up in a local market during our last holiday in France.

Which got me thinking: where else in my life do I accept the second rate mass manufactured rubbish for the real thing?  And then I had an even more disturbing thought: isn’t modern city life – all of it – exactly that?  What is really authentic?  Isn’t most of it mass manufactured rubbish that is trotted out to keep us ‘drugged up’ and oblivious to the blandness of modern life?  Perhaps that is why so many of us long for authenticity and some of us hunger over the good old days – whether they existed or not!