Daily Bread

"Food is nothing less than sacrament."
-- Leslie Leyland Fields, "The Spirit of Food"

I'm not much of a baker...yeast freaks me out.  But I love cooking, and meals are a favorite way for Jonathan & me to spend time with people.  I always light candles and I know that the typical tea-light will last about 3 hours.  When friends are over, we rarely leave the table before the tea-lights have burned to silent pools in their holders.

I'm reading a book right now called "The Spirit of Food."  Each chapter is written by a different person, sharing stories about the intersections of faith & food in their lives.  Some chapters are better than others.  But I love the Introduction.  It makes my very soul water.  I've read lots of these lately -- The Spirit of Food edited by Leslie Leyland Fields; Take This Bread by Sara Miles; Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver; and others.  They make me feel alive.  And they make me want to plan meals & invite friends & track down the best-tasting whole ingredients possible.  Flavors & tastes fascinate me, plus it's just relaxing for me to chop an onion or mince garlic or stir a pot or flip french toast...and I love eating with friends so it works well!

My sister Melody is an incredible cook.  She doesn't just understand gourmet, the science and the art of ingredients & mixing and combining, she was born as part of the definition.  There are some people who learn & others who are.  She is both.  She is a student and a natural.  I've learned a lot from her over the years.  She puts together meals the mouth remembers.  I love watching her kitchen turn into a tornado of flour dustings and spices and heavy knives on butcher block cutting boards, pottery bowls of spiced shrimp in the oven and mixing bowls of sliced peaches on the counter and double boilers of melting chocolate on the stove, her 3 kids swirling around the room.  Sometimes, preparing for holidays or special occasions, we all eat dinner and then put the kids to bed, cooking more later in the middle of the night, talking all the while.  The best conversations happen at those times.  A meal at her home is a thing of delight.  It feels like home to me.  It feels like her.  It feels like love.

I'm not a fancy cook.  I don't have the patience for it.  But I have a version of her passion.  I like watching prosecco bubbles climb the edges of a flute, or hearing the sizzle of a shallot in hot olive oil.  I like the oily pucker of an olive and the relief of sea salt on chocolate covered caramels.  I love how sage and rosemary permeate a kitchen or fresh basil perfumes mozzarella.  I love the artistry of a table & making sure each person has space.  I like the forethought....thinking about who's coming & what they like & don't like, how I get to become more creative as a cook for friends who have allergies or are vegetarian or who are Muslim so don't eat pork.  I love to anticipate.

When we have friends for dinner we start with a toast.  As people gather toward the table Jonathan pours.  Each person gets a crystal shot of pomegranate vodka and we raise our glasses at the same time.  I love hearing Jonathan offer a toast at the beginning of the meal.  A couple weeks ago it was a twist on Julius Ceasar's "veni, vidi, vici" (I came, I saw, I conquered) -- he told this little story & ended by toasting with "I came, I ate, I stayed" (in Latin).  We were having dinner with 2 couples, old friends and new friends.  It was the first time the 6 of us had all been together so it was perfect!  A few years ago at a dinner with 3 couples who didn't know each other, Jonathan whipped out the New Testament & read that story of Jesus cursing the fig tree, and then toasted "for faith that can wither fig trees." !!  That one made me nervous because it was so off the wall but conversation never lagged and now I recall it with a smile.

When I think about my growing up years, family circles around the kitchen table, or company in the living room, dessert & coffee in hand, invariably pop to mind quickly.  I grew up with groups around the table & loved it.  We had people for Sunday dinner virtually every week.  My mom didn't especially love cooking but she cared widely for people.  I learned from my mom about hospitality, about blends, about thinking about who would be present, about caring, and about ways of expressing myself in the midst of all that.

Conversation happens at tables.  Life is shared.  Cooking & eating is creating & creative space for me.  It's narrative.  It's creative.  It's life and conversing.  With every meal there's a story to create, a story to experience.  The arc unfolds across the duration of the meal, each person at the table helping write it.  The story cannot be controlled, it can only be joined in.  Life and faith are no different.

Next week I'm having a cooking class in my kitchen with a few friends.  We'll learn a few kitchen tricks and drink a glass of wine.  Women who love cooking will be right at home, and those who consider themselves inexperienced & hopelessly lost cooks will go home with a trick up her sleeve & a guaranteed successful meal she can make at home.  But mostly we'll do it together.  We'll prepare a meal together, and we'll eat it together.  Together being the operative word.  I don't mind being alone.  When I'm by myself I eat things like bread & cheese with sparkling water.  Spinach leaves wilted with a drizzle of warm olive oil.  Snap peas tossed in a pan with a little garlic.  A scallop wrapped in proscuitto, roasted in lemon zest & black pepper.  Being alone is no excuse for eating badly.  Food speaks.  But eating it together is better.

"This is the first salmon of the season.  You all know the tradition that fishermen kiss the first fish.  Anyone do that today?"  My oldest son rolls his eyes, wanting only to eat.  I hurry on.

"I'm going to read something before we start."

I pull my Bible onto the table, and before anyone can resist, I begin:
"This is from the book of Job:

But ask the animals and they will teach you,

Or the birds of the air, and they will tell you;

Or speak to the earth and it will teach you,

Or let the fish of the sea inform you.

Which of all these does not know

That the hand of the Lord has done this?

In his hand is the life of every creature

And the breath of all mankind.

Everyone listens, watching the food.  I want to say far more, to deliver a sermon, but I stop, knowing the wafers of fish on our tongues will deliver its own message."

-- Leslie Leyland Fields, "The Spirit of Food"