The skeletal and exacting food critic, Anton Ego, takes a bite of a “peasant dish” made for him by the rat-chef, Remy. As the flavors hit his mouth, he is instantly transported back to his childhood in the French countryside, his mother handing him a plate of ratatouille and wiping away his tears. Do you remember that scene in “Ratatouille?”
I love this movie. I’ve watched it many times, and it’s long been a favorite of mine, a dish as comforting to my mind as ratatouille is to Anton Ego. I’ve heard that this is common of people who struggle with anxious minds — watching the same movies or shows over and over again, particularly when their minds are ill at ease. Something about knowing the characters and the plot lines in advance seems to help people get their thoughts in order.
I’ve written here about my tendencies toward anxiety before in my essay about the overwhelming nature of Hungarian Mushroom Soup. The way that my, and so many other’s anxious thoughts often manifest is in hanging onto words.
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