This roast meat is the dead body of a fish

When we have meat before us and such eatables, we receive the impression that this is the dead body of a fish, and this is the dead body of a bird or of a pig; and again, that this Falernian is only a little grape-juice, and this purple robe some sheep's wool dyed with the blood of a shell-fish: such then are these impressions, and they reach the things themselves and penetrate them, and so we see what kind of things they are. Just in the same way ought we to act all through life, and where there are things which appear most worthy of our approbation, we ought to lay them bare and look at their worthlessness and strip them of all the words by which they are exalted. […]

This is not nihilism. The Stoic still eats the meat, drinks the wine. But the imagination, left to itself, makes meals into seductions and clothes into status. The technique re-grounds the impression in the actual thing, and so its claim on your assent goes from imperious to negotiable.