Let’s talk about time. Not the tick-tock of a clock or the endless scroll of minutes on your phone screen. I mean time you can taste.
The kind that lingers on your tongue, weaving stories of patience, care, and sometimes, straight-up magic. You’ve had it before, trust me — you just didn’t stop to notice.
Think about a slice of sourdough bread.
Not that bland, floppy supermarket kind, but the real deal, with its crackly crust and tangy soul. That flavor? It’s days in the making. A sourdough starter is a little living beast, a symphony of yeast and bacteria that’s nurtured over time.
When you bite into it, you’re tasting hours, days, and sometimes decades of care — generations of bakers coaxing flour and water into something alive.
Or let’s shift gears to a cup of kopi tubruk from a roadside stall in Java. That gritty, unfiltered brew isn’t just coffee; it’s a testament to how long the beans sat roasting in the tropical sun before meeting boiling water.
You sip it, and it’s as if the earth, the farmer, and the fire are all clapping you on the back, saying, “This is it. This is us.”
The Slow Magic of Fermentation
Ever had kimchi that made you stop mid-chew, wondering why it tastes so damn good? That’s the taste of time. Fermentation is like a love letter written in invisible ink — patience reveals its beauty.
The cabbage ferments in its spicy brine for weeks, sometimes months, growing sharper, funkier, and more complex with every passing day.
Wine? Same deal. A bottle of red, aged for a decade, doesn’t just taste of grapes. It’s oaky whispers from barrels, tannins mellowing like old friends, and sunlight from harvests past bottled into liquid poetry.
The time doesn’t always mean “old.” A fresh mango plucked at the exact right moment from a Balinese tree is time’s perfection. Too early, it’s sour; too late, it’s mush. But when it’s right? That golden sweetness is a snapshot of time frozen at its peak.
Why We’re Obsessed with Fast?
Fast food. Fast fashion. Fast Wi-Fi. Let’s be honest — speed rules our lives.
We’ve got the patience of a toddler denied candy. We microwave dinner in two minutes flat and complain when the elevator takes too long. Somewhere along the way, we forgot that some things can’t be rushed.
But the best things? The ones that stay with you? They’re slow. A ragu bubbling on the stove for hours smells like a warm hug. A piece of dark chocolate crafted from cacao that’s been fermented and dried for weeks tastes like a tiny miracle.
Maybe that’s the secret. Maybe tasting time is about slowing down enough to actually feel it.
How to Taste Time in Your Life
You don’t have to jet off to Tuscany to find a glass of Chianti or hunt down artisan pickles. Tasting time is about appreciating what’s already around you.
Start with something small: a homemade broth simmering for hours instead of grabbing a carton. Bake a batch of cookies, letting the dough chill overnight for deeper flavor. Sip your coffee, noticing its warmth and bitterness instead of scrolling through your feed.
Even in Indonesia, where I’m from, tasting time can be as simple as enjoying rendang — beef so tender and rich it’s practically butter, after hours of stewing in coconut milk and spices. Every bite tells a story of patience, tradition, and the slow dance of flavors coming together.
So, can you taste time? Hell yes, you can.
It’s in the tang of sourdough, the fire of aged whiskey, and the tender pull of slow-cooked meat. It’s in the foods that demand more from us — more waiting, more care, more love — and reward us with flavors that are worth every second.
The real question isn’t if you can taste it. It’s whether you’re willing to slow down and savor it. Because life, like the best meals, is better when you take your time.
