This post originally appeared as part of a blog tour many moons ago, back when Blood Knot was freshly released. Some long-time readers may remember it fondly… or maybe just remember being very, very hungry after reading it. — t.
Hot plum pudding with brandy sauce. Pumpkin pie, fresh out of the oven, melting into the custard. Home-baked cookies, or a cake cooling on the counter. You can smell them before you even see them.
Or maybe it’s red wine steeped with cinnamon and cloves—the siren song of mulled wine calling you home on a winter’s night.
Croissants in Paris, still warm, with real butter and even more real European coffee—dark, rich, and blessed with that smoky caramel scent you only get from beans grown halfway across the world.
Roasts. Gravy. Toasted bread. Spiced fruit. Deep-fried anything.
If you’re reading this while a holiday feast is underway somewhere nearby, your senses are probably already on high alert. Food isn’t just survival—it’s memory, ritual, and a kind of social shorthand. The smell of toast in the morning. The hush of a room before the turkey hits the table. The cheerful chaos of a kitchen in full swing.
We eat three times a day (at least that’s the theory), but the cues to think about food? They never stop. Aromas, sights, the scrape of a fork on a plate, ads, someone unwrapping a chocolate across the office…you name it. We are constantly being reminded that food exists and wouldn’t it be nice to have some right now?
So what happens when you take all that away?
Imagine, for a moment, a vampire. One who lived for decades—maybe centuries—enjoying all the same food cues we do. Smelling, tasting, sipping, savoring…and then suddenly, it’s all gone. Replaced with only one option: blood.
Now, depending on the vampire mythology you subscribe to, they may not need human food anymore. But does that mean the wanting goes away? Does the memory of flavor disappear? Do the habits? What if their senses are sharper than ours? Does the craving double?
Poor Nial, my 1,500-year-old vampire from Blood Knot, has had to deal with exactly that kind of absence. His relationship with food—his loss of it—is one of many quiet struggles he shoulders, though not always quietly. Let’s just say, espresso might still be a bit of an emotional topic.
I’ve always said that if I were offered immortality, I’d need to think long and hard about the fine print. Because if I had to give up chocolate, cheese, hot buttered toast, and yes, coffee? I’d need reassurances. Possibly in writing. (And even then, I’d want a lawyer.)
Because food isn’t just nourishment. It’s the invisible thread stitched through our days, through our memories. We eat to celebrate, to grieve, to connect, to pass time, to heal, to remember. Without it, we lose more than flavor—we lose context. Anchors. Comfort.
And frankly? I’d miss it.
Want to revisit Blood Knot and meet Nial again (or for the first time)? You can find it here at Stories Rule Press./
Tracy Cooper-Posey
SRP Author
