A Taste of Humanity

It’s one of those questions that has crossed the mind, though most of us would rather leave it unspoken. It's a thought so oddly intriguing yet repellent that it almost demands a response: what does human flesh taste like? The idea itself is gruesome to some, fascinating to others, and downright unsettling for most, but it's also deeply connected to our understanding of flavor, biology, and the strange ways in which humans interact with the world around them.

Before you dismiss it as a topic too horrifying to contemplate, let’s take a step back. We're not here to glorify cannibalism. No, that’s a conversation best reserved for history’s darker corners and the bizarre acts of art or curiosity that have flirted with this taboo. Instead, we're diving into the science and the strange allure behind the notion of eating human flesh. Spoiler alert: It’s a lot less gross and a lot more complex than you might think.

The Biology of Taste: Understanding Flavor

At the core of this inquiry lies something deceptively simple: taste. Taste is a chemical reaction. Our taste buds detect flavors by reacting with molecules in the food we eat, triggering receptors in our mouths. But flavor? Oh, flavor is far more nuanced. It's a grand symphony involving taste, smell, temperature, texture, and even the sensation of pain. It’s the whole shebang, and it’s how we process everything from a perfectly seared steak to a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

But how would it feel to consume human meat in its most basic form—say, just roasted and unseasoned?

To explore this, we turn to William Seabrook, an American writer, who, in the 1930s, ventured into the taboo world of human flesh. While in West Africa, Seabrook met with members of the Gear tribe, people who had indulged in cannibalism. Their descriptions of the flavor were—let's just say—less than thrilling. He returned to Paris, seeking a more firsthand understanding of what human flesh might actually taste like.

Seabrook struck a deal with an intern at the Sorbonne and obtained a chunk of human meat from an accident victim. After careful preparation, he described the taste as being similar to "good, fully developed veal." It wasn’t a harsh, wild flavor like game meat or pork. Rather, it was mild and tender, slightly tougher than veal, but "agreeably edible." If you’re searching for a meat comparison that brings human flesh closest, veal would be your best bet.

This description, while mild, paints a picture of human meat as surprisingly unremarkable. No sharp, unusual tastes, just an ordinary, somewhat stringy experience. In the absence of seasonings or spices, it might surprise you how familiar it could be. And although this certainly isn't an endorsement of "meat tasting," it does highlight how human meat might not be as exotic or alien as we might assume.

Why the Fascination with Cannibalism?

But let’s step away from the dinner table for a moment. Why is this topic even worth discussing? Why are humans so oddly intrigued by the concept of eating human flesh, even if they find it revolting? Cannibalism is one of the strongest taboos in modern society, but historically, there have been numerous instances where it was practiced out of necessity.

Consider the great famines of history, where survival instincts led people to extreme measures. Or, look at the darker corners of curiosity and art, where cannibalism has been explored for shock value and philosophical examination. For instance, in the 1980s, artist Rick Gibson took to public performances where he ate human tonsils and other body parts, donated for his art. In 2006, Marco Evaristti did something similar by cooking and canning meatballs made from his own body fat, obtained through liposuction.

Let’s not forget the infamous Dutch TV show in 2011, where two presenters, Dennis Storm and Valerio Zeno, cooked and ate pieces of each other’s bodies on live television, giving new meaning to the phrase "sharing is caring." Of course, both men were fully consenting adults, and the event was not deemed illegal. But still, it raises an eyebrow, doesn't it?

On a much darker note, in 2001, Armin Meiwes took the concept of consensual cannibalism to a chilling extreme. Meiwes found a volunteer through an online forum called "Cannibal Cafe." The man, Bernd Jürgen Brandes, consented to being eaten and was killed by Meiwes in the process. Meiwes was convicted of murder but later expressed remorse, claiming he had become a vegetarian after the horrific act. And as we dive deeper into the psychology of cannibalism, we can’t help but ask: what drives someone to partake in such acts?

Self-Cannibalism and Taste: You Are What You Eat

Now, let’s get even more bizarre. Have you ever heard of "self-cannibalism"? It’s the kind of cannibalism that’s more like an everyday process, albeit on a microscopic level. Every day, humans engage in a very strange form of self-cannibalism without ever realizing it. Consider your body's constant process of shedding cells. Dead skin cells, for example, are constantly falling away and getting replaced. You also swallow dead cells from your mouth, including bits of your cheek, tongue, and even some saliva. Every few months, you’re actually consuming parts of yourself.

You are, in a sense, eating yourself—no plate required. It's an odd reality, but one that hints at the true strangeness of the human experience. And, in a way, we are like the mythical ouroboros, the snake eating its own tail, slowly becoming what we consume.

In the animal kingdom, self-cannibalism reaches a whole new level with the sea squirt. When born, it resembles a tadpole and shares a phylum with humans, thanks to a primitive notochord. However, after finding a suitable surface to adhere to, it undergoes “retrogressive metamorphosis.” This means it literally digests its own nervous system, including its rudimentary brain. Essentially, the sea squirt “eats” its own mind and becomes a stationary creature for the rest of its life. Talk about taking self-cannibalism to the extreme!

Humans and Their Flavor Palate: The Weirdness Continues

Back to our own culinary preferences. The question remains: what do humans like to eat in the first place? If you’ve ever wondered why certain foods are so universally appealing, there’s actually a science behind it. Researchers in 2015 analyzed the flavor network of over 1,000 molecular compounds found in 381 ingredients from five global cuisines. What they discovered is that food pairings tend to work best when ingredients share similar flavor compounds. But when you take a closer look at how different regions approach food, you see fascinating patterns emerge. For example, North American and Western European dishes tend to combine ingredients that share flavor molecules, while East Asian cuisines don’t follow this trend as strictly. It's a complex and intricate system of flavors that reveals a lot about how humans evolved to taste the world around them.

And let’s not forget the strange phenomenon of "bad food pairings." One notorious example is orange juice and toothpaste. Why does orange juice taste downright awful right after brushing your teeth? The culprit is sodium lauryl sulfate in toothpaste, which alters your taste receptors, making the sweetness of orange juice disappear and leaving behind a bitter aftertaste.

Final Thoughts: A Taste of Humanity

While this entire topic may seem bizarre or even distasteful, it’s a strange yet intriguing meditation on the human condition. We are, in essence, always consuming ourselves—whether through the natural process of cell regeneration or through an ongoing engagement with the strange and mysterious world of flavor. The idea of eating human meat may seem repugnant, but it ultimately forces us to reflect on our own relationship with the food we consume and the ways we define what is "acceptable" in our culinary world.

So, while you may never find yourself in the position to sample human flesh (and probably shouldn't), it’s fascinating to think about how taste, biology, and cultural taboos intersect in the most unexpected ways.

And, hey, the next time you swallow a bit of saliva or scrape your tongue, just remember—you're always a little more than one percent of the mythical ouroboros.