I have a bad habit, nasty in fact. It’s not drugs, I don’t smoke, or drink excessively. I’ve never chewed my nails, digits have no appeal to me. To many I might lead what would be considered a boring existence; but I still have a rather gross habit. I hold things in my mouth for entirely too long. Like an expert sommelier would taste and savor a fine wine, letting the flavor bloom on his tongue, I too hold foods in my mouth, but not to let the flavor bloom, just because I enjoy having them there.

Now there are many foods with which I do this; they are usually self-contained. It’s not as if I pause in my chewing, and just leave the steak au poivre to mellow, tucked neatly, pouch-like, in the back of my cheek. A grape, for example is the perfect, self-contained food for this tuck and savor method. The skin of the fruit is taught and tight, just begging me to take a bite. But I don’t, instead I let the slippery sphere mellow, taunting me with its juice, tucked neatly in the depths of my mouth until I can stand it no longer. I take a nibble, releasing the sweet goodness, moist bits of flesh mingling with the nectar of the juice. I crunch down on what is left of the grape, brought down to a perfect 98.6 degrees, the temperature of my mouth and thus the perfect temperature for consumption. It could take me an hour to eat the perfect bunch of grapes.

A grape is one thing to carry with me, I can talk, communicate, proceed as normal, and no one says anything about it (even if they do see the penny-size lump in my cheek). Another favorite item I do the tuck and savor with, unsuccessfully if you ask my husband, who is continually disgusted by my poor behavior, is that favorite morning-time beverage– coffee. We will be scurrying around in the morning, each with a cup of coffee, Good Morning America playing in the background, and Brian will ask me a question, to which I will answer with a nod, appropriately or not, not wanting to open my mouth, letting the creamy coffee dribble down my chin. Finally Brian, disgusted and discouraged by my ineptitude of breakfast decorum remarks in a stern tone, “Swallow!” I oblige, but only until he leaves. If only I could figure out a way to communicate with coffee in my mouth, my day would be a bit brighter.