
When was the last time your mouth watered? And when it did, was it a joyful experience?
I’m going to take a shot in the dark and say it wasn’t, and that’s purely from my own experience. Because the only time my mouth waters is just before I’m about to vomit, which thankfully, is a rarely occurrence in my life.
Ironically, the definition of mouthwatering presents it as something “smelling, looking or sounding delicious,” and also “highly attractive or tempting,” things that rarely come to mind when I’m about to lose my lunch, indicated by my salivary glands giving me the proverbial “two-minute warning.”
Now as someone who wasn’t born yesterday (evidenced by my failing hair line, increasing near-sightedness and various aches and pains throughout my body), I understand what the term means, and how restaurants, culinary critics and Food Network scriptwriters alike love to use it as a positive: “this mouthwatering recipe,” “mouthwatering flavors of the Southwest,” “a mouthwatering explosion of fruity goodness.” You get the picture.
Now, anatomically (and be honest because maybe I’m the anomaly here), when was the last time your mouth truly watered when you saw or smelled food? I can’t think of one because I don’t EVER recall my body reacting in such a way.
On the other hand, I CAN remember a number of occasions throughout my life when my mouth watered when I was sick, triggering me to race to the bathroom to use the toilet in a way for which it was not designed (if you get my drift).
In recent years, I hadn’t heard or seen the term “mouthwatering” often in ads or on food shows, so I didn’t think much about it. Maybe it had been mothballed, giving way to such phrases as “delicious” and “delectable,” or more creatively, to the visual effect of showing food bouncing onto a plate in slow motion, or with gratuitous amounts of sauces and gravies cascading down the side.
However, it seems to be enjoying a renaissance of late (“having a moment,” as the kids say), and frankly, it bothers me.
From an intellectual––or even a visceral––perspective, though I know the spirit in which it’s presented, to me “mouthwatering” does not provide an accurate depiction of the reaction I have (and maybe you as well) to tasty, food.
I love the smells, sights and even the sounds of good, well-prepared food, but it doesn’t cause an immediate, intense Pavlovian reaction. I like to think there’s a little self-control (and self-respect) left in these old bones.
From a marketing perspective, whenever I hear the term (or read it on a billboard or menu), it strikes me as a negative, something sloppy, grotesque and unwanted. Also, even if I take the term at face value (in its metaphorical sense), and I concede that most people probably DON’T have the same strong negative feelings I do about it (to those people I say, I think you’re lying to yourself but that’s your burden and who am I to judge?), I think it’s a red flag statement, a warning to STAY AWAY FROM THIS RESTAURANT. Why? Because generally, the restaurants and culinary purveyors announcing their “mouthwatering” recipes, entrees or appetizers are, in fact, the very places whose food is anything but delicious and delectable. (My two cents; you may have your own opinion, and I respect that.)
Am I making sense? Maybe the proper questions are: “Why do I care?” and “Why have I dragged you into this conversation?” Or maybe the REAL question is, “Why are you still reading this if it’s so trivial and stupid?”
If I may posit a theory on the final question above: You are still reading because, while when you woke up this morning fully “onboard” with the rest of the “pro-mouthwatering” crowd, I’ve just scratched an itch you didn’t know you had. And now, you’re second-guessing yourself, and really your entire life because you’ve spent all these years thinking mouthwatering was a positive way to describe food …
… and now you’re not so sure.
To me, mouthwatering is a useless, distractive method for taking your mind off the fact that some of these restaurants and brands have nothing special to offer, but they’re putting the onus on you to believe that slapping the “mouthwatering” label on their food somehow improves it.
It doesn’t. And for at least one person (yours truly), it simply brings visions of someone drooling (not a positive), and at worst, memories of me circa 2008 kneeling on a resort bathroom floor trying to purge a bout of food poisoning from my system––thanks to the fancy Italian restaurant whose meal was included in our vacation package––so I could muster the energy to participate in an open-water boat excursion with my family the next morning (also not a positive).
Think what you want: go ahead and side with “Big Food” on this issue. Keep believing “mouthwatering” is your indicator of quality and culinary attractiveness. But proceed with caution friends, because historically I’ve found that that same trail of drool has only led me to disappointment, or worse, a violent purge at the feet of the porcelain god.
© 2025 David R. Haznaw
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