“Seize the moment. Remember all those women on the ‘Titanic’ who waved off the dessert cart.” ~ Erma Bombeck
“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.” ~ J.R.R. Tolkien
“Popcorn for breakfast! Why not? It’s a grain. It’s like, like, grits, but with high self-esteem.” ~ James Patterson, The Angel Experiment
“What I say is that, if a man really likes potatoes, he must be a pretty decent sort of fellow.” ~ A.A. Milne
“He was a bold man who first ate an oyster” ~ Jonathan Swift
You’ve probably figured it out by now…this month, we’re talking about food.
Robin Lythgoe
Author of As the Crow Flies
A bite of something delicious and familiar can transport us in time, reviving feelings and memories from times gone by. Mama’s chicken soup isn’t just for curing colds. Cookies fresh out of the oven can remind you of holiday baking parties with the family. A dish of chocolate Knox Blox immediately brings to mind a summer evening spent on the front step, talking about anything and everything with our kids.
The foods we especially like—the foods that come with rich, warm memories—are different and unique to each of us. I will never forget the humid “green” smell…
Patricia Reding
Author of Oathtaker
Oh, food! It is as critical a part of a well-spun story as it is of a well-enjoyed life.
Some years ago—let’s say 25 or so—there was a person in my life who had moved from the “acquaintance” column into the “among two best friends” column, where she has remained ever since. But even then, our relationship changed in a crazy and meaningful way, beginning with an exchange one Friday evening that went something like this …
Parker Broaddus
Author of A Hero’s Curse & Nightrage Rising
I’m surprised. I found (yet another) topic that is frustratingly difficult for me to write about.
Food. Turns out I can spin tales in fantastical worlds, make horses fly, cats talk, or craft a raging daemon – but the everyday sustenance that I depend on, that I look forward to – I come up vague and boring, like a bowl of tepid, gluey oatmeal. It’s not necessarily bad, but it’s certainly uninspiring.
But that is my failure, because food and drink actually weave a deep magic that not only bring hope, joy and happiness to our daily lives, but can even warp time and space, tying the fabric of our existence together in a way nothing else can.
Green chili casserole with a pot of cowboy beans, rolls or cornbread, and an apricot cobbler for dessert, takes me back to some of my earliest memories on a ranch in New Mexico. The meal was a favorite after a long day of gathering cattle, branding, or shipping. It was a large spread, with plenty for our family and any of the neighbors who were there to help. It didn’t just satisfy a momentary hunger – it brought us together as family and friends. It created community.
I think J.K. Rowling demonstrated this well in the Harry Potter series in an easy, natural, way. So many of the interactions in the books happen in the Great Hall, around the long dining tables where the students eat three times a day. The Great Hall captured the lifeblood of the story. It was here that relationships were formed, friendships founded, and wizards sorted. It even hosted the climactic final battle.
There is an intimacy around food that is impossible to replicate. I’ll mention one more dish that ties the present to the past. Rice pudding. It is a favorite of our four kiddos, and was a favorite of mine when I was their age. I recall running away from home one late afternoon with my brother, our most precious belongings stuffed in a heavy metal toolbox that we carried, trading the load back and forth as the journey unfolded. It’s a great story. We trekked four miles before it started to get dark. We made camp, and as the high mountain desert cold rolled in, our tummies started rumbling. At dark we saw the searchlights from our folks, two or three miles away. We hoofed it. We ran toward the lights, toward home, handing the toolbox back and forth as we tripped and scrambled and raced through the night. Papa was in the pickup, headlights scanning the hills, when we came skittering across the prairie. Mom and our hired hand, Jose, had saddled up and were looking for us horseback. I’m sure there were consequences. A telling off at the least. I don’t remember any of that. But I do remember that when we got home, it was rice pudding for supper, and it was still hot. As I dug in, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why I had ever considered running away.
There’s a magic in food and drink that is easily underestimated, and ignored at our peril. I don’t want to be Odysseus’s crew, turned into pigs by the witch Circe as they feasted, or Chihiro’s parents in Spirited Away (2001), turned into pigs for gorging themselves on the food left for spirits. But neither do I want to be an ascetic monk, rejecting the good gifts given me. It seems these extremes are avoided around the hearth, at home.
And so, I’m off, leaving the office and heading home, to a kind and thoughtful wife, three loud boys, one wide-eyed, wispy haired girl, and rice pudding.
Good job, Parker! I didn’t remember the pudding, b,. I well remember the incident!!! Love you. Mom
Mmmm, rice pudding! One of the Grade A comfort foods. And what a great story to go with it!