Field Note No.03 What a Milkshake Reveals About Food and Rewards

Observed setting

• Where — The Yard Milkshake Bar

• When — Late-afternoon

• Light — Direct sunlight while waiting outside; soft, filtered natural light indoors

• Sound — People talking; occasional cars passing; music playing through the shop’s speakers

• Pace — Slightly pressured while en route, then relaxed once seated indoors

• People present — Myself and three family members

What I noticed
Our group was approaching several upcoming transitions involving both work and school, so we decided to visit a milkshake bar none of us had been to before.

Getting there became part of the experience. We walked, rode the subway, and spent much of the trip in direct sunlight on a day well over 90 degrees. As the heat intensified, so did our pace. Conversation became quieter, occasionally interrupted by comments about the weather and the uncertainty surrounding the changes ahead.

Ordering was quick. Then, one by one, each oversized, decadent milkshake arrived at the table. Eyes widened and smiles appeared almost immediately.

Although several of us joked that we wouldn't be able to finish them, everyone welcomed the challenge. The first sip was noticeably satisfying. The cold cream offered immediate relief from the oppressive heat, and the pace of the conversation slowed again, but this time in a different way. The focus shifted from the journey and the transitions ahead to sharing reactions, laughter, and the experience itself.

What it might mean
The milkshake seemed to represent more than dessert. It marked the end of the journey through the heat, the crowded subway, and the waiting. It also marked something less visible, a pause before several upcoming life transitions.

That made me wonder whether the milkshake was ever the reward at all.

Perhaps the reward was making the journey together. Perhaps it was having permission to slow down before life became busy again.

Or maybe it was celebrating effort, sharing laughter, and creating one more memory before everything changed. The milkshake simply became the symbol that held those experiences.

If that's true, then the question shifts.

Instead of asking,

Why do I reward myself with food?

we might ask,

What is this reward helping me celebrate, acknowledge, or experience?

Sometimes the answer may genuinely be the food itself.

Other times, we may discover we're really longing for rest, connection, accomplishment, comfort, novelty, or a moment to pause.

When we notice the difference, we don't lose the reward.

We simply gain more ways to meet the need it represents.

A question to carry
When you think about rewards, what early memories come to mind?

Try observing this

This week, notice your next reward.

Then ask:

• What am I celebrating?

• What need is this meeting?

• Is the object the reward or does it represent something more?