Eat This, Hear That: Exploring Moods & Tones

As 2024 comes to a close and the holiday season envelops us in its kaleidoscope of emotions, I find myself pondering a peculiar dilemma: Should I embrace the tried-and-true cookbook format, or does the world really need another one of those? Cookbooks, after all, are often like the encyclopedias of yore—ambitious, vast, and barely skimmed. Did you know the average cookbook has over 150 recipes? Be honest: have you ever made even a fraction of them? I haven’t. Maybe ten recipes at most. So why write a book that’s destined to gather dust?

This line of thinking gnaws at me, especially after a recent encounter with Lara Hamilton of Book Larder. I attended a Town Hall event featuring Matty Matheson, the larger-than-life chef, author, and star of The Bear. As I stood among hundreds of fans, clutching my dream of someday showcasing my own cookbook in Lara’s shop, a wave of self-doubt crashed over me. Who am I to write a cookbook? I’m no celebrity. I’ve never owned a restaurant, never been on Top Chef (although two friends have, Robin Leventhal and Aaron Grissom, rest in peace).

But then Matty started talking about music—the lifeblood of his kitchen, the soundtrack to his chaos—and something inside me clicked. That thread, the one that ties cooking to music, was something I’d always felt but never articulated. It quieted my doubts, at least momentarily, and reminded me: maybe I don’t need fame or Michelin stars to share something meaningful.

Still, the self-doubt lingers like an over-salted soup. As I try to figure out my place in this cookbook cosmos, I can’t shake the thought that food and music share more than we often acknowledge. Both are steeped in mood and tone, shaping how we experience the world.

Mood and Tone: The Secret Sauce

Mood and tone are often conflated, but they’re distinct in the same way that melody and rhythm are. Mood is the atmosphere—the feeling that wraps around you, whether it’s the smoky melancholy of a blues ballad or the warmth of a bowl of chili on a cold night. Tone, on the other hand, is the artist’s attitude—the sharp, irreverent edge of punk rock or the polished elegance of a classical sonata. Together, mood and tone create a dynamic that transforms both meals and melodies into unforgettable experiences.

When I was learning guitar, fellow players would obsess over “tone”—that elusive quality that made a sound distinctly theirs. Cooking is no different. Recipes are just chords on a page; it’s the chef’s touch that gives them life.

Cooking in the Key of E—motion

Have you ever noticed how certain foods pair perfectly with specific moods? When we’re sad, we often gravitate toward sad music and comforting carbs. It’s counterintuitive, isn’t it? You’d think we’d seek out upbeat tunes and fresh salads to lift our spirits, but instead, we wrap ourselves in the melancholy like a familiar old sweater.

Conversely, when we’re celebrating, the foods become lighter, effervescent—champagne, oysters, charcuterie—and the music follows suit, all brass bands and joyous rhythms. Science backs this up: meals can alter our mood, with sweet and fatty textures triggering dopamine releases akin to a favorite song’s crescendo.

The Anticipatory Effect

Think about the thrill you feel when the opening chords of a familiar song play. It’s not just nostalgia; it’s an anticipatory effect, like the joy of catching a whiff of garlic and olive oil sizzling in the pan. Familiar patterns in both music and food prepare us for pleasure, like Pavlov’s bell.

Even unfamiliar music—or meals—can elicit this effect if they follow predictable patterns. A new dish with familiar flavors, much like a new artist with a classic sound, can feel like an instant favorite.

Mood-Driven Menus

This brings me back to my cookbook conundrum. Should recipes be grouped by cooking methods, ingredients, or something else entirely? What if I leaned into the emotional aspect of cooking and created chapters like “Comfort Food” for nostalgic evenings, “Celebration Meals” for jubilant occasions, and even “Funeral Food” for those bittersweet moments of communal grieving? I am still unsure what method I will ultimately use, but I do know I am going to introduce mood and tone into the finished product.

Music and food are inseparable in these moments. A playlist paired with a meal can amplify emotions, making a sad day bearable or a happy one unforgettable.

Ditch the Algorithms

In the age of algorithmic recommendations, I propose a rebellion. Next time you’re feeling low or elated, skip the pre-curated playlists and dig deep into your soul’s jukebox. Pair that music with food that mirrors your mood—a creamy pasta when you need a hug, a spicy curry when you’re feeling adventurous.

Because life’s too short for fast food and Spotify Recommendation Algorithms. Find your tone, embrace your mood, and savor every bite and beat you put together.

This Week’s Playlist

Following through with mood and tone, I’ve created my third playlist from the cookbook, From Playlist to Plate: The Art of Pairing Music with Food. It ranges from the haunting voice of Jeff Buckley to the sinister Johnny Rotten. Listen [Apple Music, Spotify, YouTube] and let me know what you think—I’d love to hear how it pairs with your culinary creations.

If you enjoyed this content, help me grow my email list from 11 to 500 before the book launch by sharing this email with a friend. Together, let’s make From Playlist to Plate a celebration of music, food, and the experiences that bring us together.

Photo by Dave Lastovskiy on Unsplash