Would You, Could You, Eat a Dragon?

TW: Eating Disorder (not anorexia or bulimia)

As someone who relies on the luxury of being able to choose her own meals, I often wonder what I would do if I couldn’t run down to the local grocery store to buy a package of ground beef that mercifully does not resemble a cow in any way, shape, or form. Or if I ended up the guest of someone who expected me to behead and pluck a chicken if I wanted dinner. Or if I had to kill a pig with my bare hands to get bacon while Charlotte’s Web played on a loop in my head.

In other words, how would I survive after an apocalypse? (Answer: I wouldn’t.)

My regular eating habits are what you might call abysmal.¹ My diet is limited, mostly carbs, and often bowl-based. After a childhood with tonsils the size of golf balls that made every swallow a torture, I’ve never been an adventurous eater, though I will try most things once.² But once is enough. One try and a foodstuff gets categorized in my brain as ‘Good,’ ‘Acceptable,’ and ‘If you eat this, you will vomit.’³ Acceptable is reliable but uninteresting, and makes up probably 80% of what I ingest. Sometimes items fall out of favor, and the trip is usually one way, so if I find something that works, I eat it over and over and over until I’m sick of it, or it’s discontinued like every one of my favorite cereals.

When I sat down to watch the newest Tumblr darling, Dungeon Meshi, the food-based thought experiment struck again. For the uninitiated, Dungeon Meshi (localized as Delicious in Dungeon for the English-speaking West) is a hit anime airing on Netflix based on the manga of the same name by Ryōko Kui. It’s a tongue-in-cheek look at how an adventuring party might really fair when exploring dungeons full of dragons, and specifically zeroes in on the problem of survival. Most home games of Dungeons & Dragons gloss over the issue of supplies because weighing packs and counting rations is, well, boring, compared to casting Tasha’s Hideous Laughter, or attacking a troll with a falchion. Dungeon Meshi dares to ask, ‘If you were broke and about to go on a months’ long journey into the deepest levels of a semi-sentient dungeon to save your sister, why not eat what you kill along the way?’

Almost every episode includes a recipe and lovingly rendered look at the process of butchering monsters for food. Two of the four initial adventuring party members are gung-ho to the point of obsession about this opportunity, while the other two vacillate between resignation and disgust at the thought – though they always come around at the first bite thanks to the dwarf Senshi’s unparalleled cooking skills.

The show and manga include valuable messages about self care that go beyond face masks and adult coloring books. Senshi often delivers 80’s cartoon-worthy PSAs about the importance of good sleep, balanced nutrition, and moderate exercise. He’s passionate about the dungeon’s ecosystem and cautions against over-poaching. It comes from a place of love, but he’s very much a ‘eat this basilisk because your body needs fuel, just try some, expand your palate, go on, just one bite’-type of overbearing parental figure. And the others (for whom consuming monster meat is a necessity to achieve their goals) dismiss any complaint or dissent with, ‘Just get over it.’

There’s not a lot of sympathy in this story for, say, Marcille, the elf wizard who throws a fit at the first mention of eating anything monstrous and absolutely draws the line at humanoids, or Izutsumi, the cat girl who flatly refuses to eat dungeon food (or mushrooms) and is looked upon as a frustration at best and a spoiled brat at worst. Marcille forces herself to get over the hurdle of the meal’s original form, and almost always enjoys the results, so as the story goes on she gains the party’s seal of approval, while Izutsumi gets a lecture on food waste and a rather condescending lesson in how to hold silverware properly. Even when she tries to give her mandrake kebab to someone in the party she thinks will actually appreciate it, her offer’s rebuffed and she’s harassed about rejecting the food until she lashes out. The consensus is that she’s mean and ungrateful.

Her rejection of the monster food keeping them all alive is revealed to be rooted in fear, xenophobia, and not a little self-loathing, as her half-cat/half-girl condition isn’t natural and she worries eating monsters could make it worse. Casting Izutsumi as a selfish creature afraid to try new things comes with some preachy dialog about how bigotry doesn’t stand up to logic, followed by a moral lesson about Listening and Why We Can’t All Just Do What We Want All of the Time. Plus a hearty dose of Avoidance Won’t Help You Reach Your Goals. And, of course, the chapter where all this erupts resolves with her tucking into a plate of barometz chops and finding it – surprise! – tasty.

As disappointing as it is that Izutsumi drinks the proverbial Kool-Aid, having Learned Her Lesson, it’s an understandable conceit of the narrative. As one of the other characters puts it, “You can’t be a picky eater in the dungeon.”

But the themes of Dungeon Meshi extend beyond the titular dungeon. When food is the central love language that binds people together, what place is there for those of us who don’t want to be fed? If “eating is[…]the exclusive privilege of the living,” does that make me simply the walking dead? You can’t be a picky eater in the dungeon. Okay, but – hear me out – what if you are? And what if you have to stay in the dungeon regardless? What are you supposed to do then?

Eating things I don’t want to eat because they’re nutritious, or would otherwise go to waste, or because it’s a great moral failing to have such bounty and not appreciate it, is truly anathema to me. I hate food waste as much as the next liberal.⁴ I appreciate the bounty. I simply don’t see the point in consuming something I don’t want just because it’s there. I barely see the point in consuming things because they’ll keep me alive. I am the worst person to bring to an all-you-can-eat buffet. I am a nana’s worst nightmare. There are starving people in the world who’d be grateful for what I have? Well, give me their address and I’ll mail them my leftovers.

I don’t want to be this way. It limits where I can go and what I can do. I can’t tell you how badly I wish I liked bananas. I simply don’t know how to get past the brain block of, ‘That is a kind of thing that you did not grow up eating, and it will not taste like the things you have approved as reliable to consume,’ or ‘this is a thing you tried once with the texture that does not equal tasty.’ The mind says, ‘If you put that anywhere near your mouth, everything is going to shut down in a defensive maneuver to avoid even the possibility of throwing it up later. Not to mention that you’ve already built this up in your head to such a degree that a positive outcome seems impossible.’ The stomach chimes in, ‘If no like, why eat?’ This applies to foods many real world cultures eat which I consider my own personal bugbears, like organ meats, or insects, or any and all forms of seafood. Hell, I don’t even like eggs outside of cakes.

“Have you considered that you might have ARFID?” asks the internet with a host of relatable anecdotes about Avoidant Restrictive Food Intake Disorder, which, of course, sounds made up.

‘I don’t think I have that,’ I say. ‘Sure my eating is disordered, but I don’t have an eating disorder. I’m just picky⁵.’ I’m just the catgirl who wants to do what she wants to do all of the time, even if it means inconveniencing others. I’m selfish and afraid. I would truly rather not eat than eat something I don’t find appetizing. Because forcing myself to eat takes more energy than I regain from the eating, and, call me crazy, but I don’t think eating should be that hard.’

Individuals with ARFID limit the volume and/or variety of foods they consume, but unlike the other eating disorders, food avoidance or restriction is not related to fears of fatness or distress about body shape, size or weight. Instead, in ARFID, selective eating is motivated by a lack of interest in eating or food, sensory sensitivity (e.g., strong reactions to taste, texture, smell of foods), and/or a fear of aversive consequences (e.g., of choking or vomiting).

National Eating Disorders Association. “Avoidant Restrictive Food Intake Disorder (ARFID).” Accessed June 27, 2024. https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/avoidant-restrictive-food-intake-disorder-arfid/

Oh. Hm.

There’s a strong temptation to shove this disorder in the face of all those who’ve ever doubted me. ‘See, I’m not just a picky eater, I have a condition.’ But maybe I’m both. Maybe I’m a picky eater with an eating disorder. It doesn’t much matter in a world where food is celebrated (and understandably so) as something that unites humankind. I’m still abstaining from the feast and therefore snubbing my nose at all that’s been provided for me. Plus, who are the nanas going to believe, the National Eating Disorders Association or generations of ancestors who won’t let you have dessert until you clean your plate?

I’ve never seen a positive portrayal of so-called ‘picky eating,’ and it’s a hot-button topic online. Food is the heart of community. People feel very passionate about cuisine, to the point where rejection of their dish is a knife to the heart. It’s offensive to them that people would turn down food for any reason, short of it causing death. There’s no room at the table for those who are ‘hungry, but not for that.’ And, certainly, sometimes you eat what’s on your plate because you don’t have a choice, which is part of Dungeon Meshi‘s message. But what I think is lost in the tales of bratty toddlers wailing for chicken nuggets instead of broccoli, and surly teenagers who tell their omnivore parents they’re going vegan, is that the lack of choice can cut both ways. It’s not always an absence of will or want. Sometimes it’s an absence of ability. But ARFID or not, no one should be excluded from the human race for the offense of lacking an appetite.

And while it’s not a choice to say, ‘I don’t want to eat that,’ I will concede it’s a privilege. If I had grown up in a different place under different circumstances, would I still feel the same about jackfruit⁶? On the other hand, people across the world won’t be less hungry just because I ate what was offered to me. Could I force myself to eat the unappetizing if I truly had no other options? Perhaps.⁷ I once managed to eat a few bites of salmon to avoid offending a family friend before someone else at the table realized I was mostly pushing food around on the plate and called me out. Would it be different if it was really life or death? Would previously unknown survival instincts kick in? I hope I never have to find out.

But I wonder. And hope the apocalypse takes me out before anyone suggests turning to cannibalism.⁸

1. I won’t go into detail about what I eat on a given day because my mother will read this, and then she’ll lecture me in that way that says, ‘I know you already know this, but you’re my daughter and I love you, and I want you to be healthy, and also where did I go wrong?’ ↩︎
2. Despite what several extended family members think. ↩︎
3. The Brain never forgets. I’ve never understood the concept of “developing a taste” for something you don’t like in the first place by forcing yourself to ingest it repeatedly until Stockholm Syndrome sets in. ↩︎
4. Food portions in the United States are the real crime. It’s nearly impossible to avoid food waste as a single woman. ↩︎
5. I understand that the concept of a ‘picky eater’ in a world with any food insecurity is an affront, but it’s really not the crime some make it out to be. I would love for the term to be simply erased from the English language, along with ‘late bloomer.’ ↩︎
6. It’s…not the worst thing I’ve ever eaten. ↩︎
7. I’ve sometimes wondered if I could eat unusual things if I didn’t know what they were, but am afraid of retroactively reacting badly once my mind has time to process. On the other hand, I really don’t like being tricked, even with my consent. ↩︎
8. If my plane goes down in the snowy mountains and it’s eat or be eaten, I’ll take option B, thanks. I’m an organ donor. ↩︎