The curious spectacle of watching someone eating through a screen

First came the images of restaurant dishes on the mobile screen: coffees with drawings made with very dense milk foam, appetizing hamburgers and brunches Photographic images that functioned as gastronomic postcards seemed to be evolving into a lifestyle. Food entered social media as a visual spectacle and as a promotional strategy for restaurants. Then came simple recipes designed to be replicated on a phone, a home cooking experience accelerated by the rhythm of a short, effective video. The pandemic contributed to their popularization, and curiosity became almost a necessity. The trend evolved into much more complex recipes that no one intended to ever cook but that invited viewers to watch the process as if observing a magical ritual: fermenting doughs, unusual mixtures, slow cooking, and sophisticated marinades. The viewer was captivated, not because they thought about trying it in their own kitchen, but to see what that meticulous preparation would become. Saturated with culinary offerings, the focus quickly shifted from the plate to the act of eating: people in front of the camera amplified the sound of each bite to create a sensory stimulus for the viewer. Extreme close-ups of the bite, the sauces dripping, the crunch of certain ingredients, the delicate crackling of the bread's fluffiness, the sound of the spoon cutting across the plate. A food fetish where the interest no longer lay in the kitchen or the place, but in the enjoyment of texture and sound. Gradually, eating has ceased to be a pleasurable activity and has become a pretext for companionship: the emergence of videos Eat with me, the Come with me. There's no recipe here, and no exceptional dish is required. The spectacle doesn't need to be enticing either. It's simply someone sitting at a table with a camera in front of them, as if they were eating with you. They place a plate on the table or open a Tupperware container, like any of those people take to work. It might be some rather mediocre scrambled eggs accompanied by sad boiled rice. It doesn't need to look appetizing. The menu might not even be part of their own culinary culture. All the person is doing is inviting you to share that moment. They offer company to someone who has to eat alone. They make their work break more pleasant, whether to stave off hunger or simply to mask a domestic silence that's too uncomfortable to bear. Some people put these videos on in the background while they eat at their work computer, like someone turning on the radio. But it's just the creation of an illusion. In reality, there's no interaction. There are videos where the diner eats slowly and silently, setting a healthy eating pace for others to follow. Others explain circumstances related to the act of eating, as if they were having a conversation. They talk about the importance of chewing a certain number of times or being mindful of each spoonful. It's a light presence that demands no effort from the viewer. Simply keep chewing and become familiar with a stranger pretending to address a hypothetical someone on the other side of the screen.

Some people believe that eating alone is sad, and they avoid it because they find it a depressing defeat. But after watching the videos of Come with meThey might change their minds: compared to pretending to share a table with a digital extra, eating alone might suddenly seem like a surprisingly worthy option.