Zen eating is a peculiar thing for most people. For one, it is always done in silence. Eating in silence with others is a great feeling, and an amazing community spirit builds up without saying a single word. If you've never had the experience organize a silent meal with your family or friends sometime.

The food at a Zen meal is served quite ritualistically, with lots of chanting, bowing, gasshos, and waiting for everyone to be served. There is such a reverence for the serving portion that many first time Zen meal participants aren't ready for what comes next.
Bam! Like a starter's pistol has been fired, the leader starts eating, and by eating I mean shoveling food down his gullet at an alarming pace. This might be becoming rarer, but if you end up with an older Japanese master as the leader, be prepared to see an intense blur of chopsticks multitasking between rice, soup, and pickles.The tricky bit is that when the master finishes his meal, everyone finishes. It doesn't matter if you've only just started on your rice, the meal is over. Not only will you still be hungry, but you'll have committed the big Buddhist no-no of wasting food.
The result is that everyone starts racing furiously to finish before the leader, and the meal can be quite an ordeal, especially for foreign guests with less-than-stellar chopstick skills. I encountered one guy, who, sneaking snacks between meditation sessions, growled, "Why don't we do a few less minutes of bloody chanting and a few more minutes of actually eating the bloody food..."
This quirk of Zen retreats drives people bananas. You spend all day learning to nurture your mindful attention on the present moment, taking 45 minutes to carefully sweep a room, and then at meal time it all seems to go out the window, just when you'd actually like to take the time to enjoy the carefully prepared food.

I used to really hate the rushed meals too, especially after the warm-fuzzies you get on a Thich Nhat Hanh retreat where you're encouraged to chew every bite 30 times to truly appreciate the complex flavors that are present in simple foods when properly masticated.
This time however, with PCP eyes, I started to see the underlying belief system that leads to Zen speed eating. It was there all the time, I just wasn't ready to understand it. The answer can be found in one of those annoying chants you have to do before the meal. Below is an English translation:
We reflect on the effort that brought this food and consider how it comes to us.The fourth line is the key. We regard this food as good medicine to sustain our life. Think about that. Think about the last time you were sick and had to take an antibiotic. You didn't look forward to it, you didn't relish the coating and flavor of the pill, you just opened the bottle, put it on your tongue, took a swig of water to down the thing, and went on with your day. Presumably, a Zen priest is merely getting his sustenance with the same efficiency and non-attachment as you took that pill. He just wants to get on with the important work of gaining enlightenment.
We reflect on our virtue and practice, and whether we are worthy of this offering.
We regard it as essential to keep the mind free from excesses such as greed.
We regard the food as good medicine to sustain our life.
For the sake of enlightenment we now receive this food.
Modern culture abhors the idea of food as medicine. Each meal strives to be an event in itself. Flavors compete to get the tongue's attention as the eaters comment enthusiastically about how good this dish is or how poor that one is. Especially as food manufacturers have figured out how to cram even more flavor into our meals, we've all become gourmands. And each year, in an attempt to please ever dulled palates, the sodium and sugar levels creep up and up as our waistlines creep out and out.
There's some merit to reorienting yourself to the idea that the food you eat is more medicine than entertainment. This perspective tends to pop the bubble that delicious food can sometimes create, as you picture how happy a given meal will make you (a happiness that fades soon after the first few bites). If you're just eating to sustain yourself, there's less tendency to crave over-the-top flavors and artificial food products. Your body knows intrinsically that, in terms of medicine, Cheetos are less appealing than apples.
However, I'm not sold on wolfing down plain food as the best way to eat. As a Buddhist would say, there's a middle way here.
I think we can take the best of both worlds. The appreciation Western culture has for taste, texture, and presentation, with the Zen lack of extravagance and attachment. Simple, wholesome foods, prepared with care, shared with friends, and respected on both levels, as medicine and a shared culinary experience. Eaten at a normal speed, not too fast, but also not awkwardly slow.
I know that's a tall order. If I'm lucky I can get a half dozen of those kind of meals in a busy week. Life doesn't always allow them. But you'll look and feel so much better if you can start incorporating them into your routine.
And as a final note, Zen retreat food is far from perfect (Although light years better than the average Western meal). It's waaaay too light on the vegetables and tends to fill people up with empty carbs. Also, fruit is entirely absent. It might be ok if you're spending several hours a day on the meditation cushion, but won't get you anywhere near Peak Condition. So take the "food as medicine" portion as a useful reminder and leave the rest.
(Silent gassho to you!)






