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Sacred Food
Feb. 7th, 2013 12:47 pmHere’s a question for all you cooks out there: how and when did you learn to cook?
Sure, a few of you may have fond memories of following mom or grandma around in the kitchen, tugging at apron strings, and learning the fine nuances of a pinch-o-this or a dash-o-that.
Not so much for me. Despite the fact that our family owned a restaurant, and we specialized in Portuguese cooking, I really didn’t pick up any cooking experience from my family. My father’s cooking specialty was seafood, which unfortunately was never to my taste. As for my mom… well… I’ve picked on her cooking enough in the past. Let’s just say her specialty involved pulling something out of the freezer, tearing open the box, and throwing it in the microwave. Thus, by the time I was ready to take flight after graduating high school, I was ill-equipped on how to prepare food.
Like many college kids, my diet was pretty horrific. I relied on pizza or subway for most things while surviving the dorms, and things didn’t get better for quite some time. By the time I had my first apartment, there really was no reason not to learn how to cook. After all, I had a kitchen. I had a refrigerator. It was time! So I learned, through trial and error, how to cook. Looking back, I have to chuckle at some of the early horrific errors. I remember one day deciding that I wanted to make something healthy. Perhaps a nice hearty vegetable soup! So I decided to use a crock pot for the first time, knowing that when I returned home from school, I would have a wonderful hot meal waiting for me. I chopped up a bunch of carrots and broccoli and potatoes and loaded them into the crock pot. I also added rice. And then I poured in water to cover them all and put the crock pot on high.
No salt.
No seasonings.
No stock.
Why? Because I naively thought that all the flavor in vegetable soup came from just vegetables. Oh… silly naïve Joe. So what happened? I came home and didn’t smell stew. When I checked the pot, it didn’t make sense. There was this thick glob of goo. The rice that I added had, of course, completely dissolved turning into paste. And that gelatinous paste coated the now mushy vegetables that tasted dull, boring, and like glue. I was so upset, but it was no use. This stuff was good for nothing other than applying wallpaper. So into the trash it went, and I made a cheese sandwich instead.
While my interest in the SCA eventually inspired me in many ways to become a better cook, one of my earliest inspirations for cooking was actually religion. Good little pagan boy that I was, I became fascinated by seasonal rituals. Meticulous detail was often paid to particular items of ritual. There must be salted water. There must be tools used for one thing, and one thing only. There must be wine. And in many rituals, there must be food. Yet, interestingly enough, many groups really didn’t put much thought into the food aspect. I recall one ritual in particular where part of the premise involved bread. Yet, rather than some artisanal or home-made bread, the people putting on the ritual used some very clearly store-bought bread. Heck, it was still in the plastic wrap. And while this may not bother others, it bothered me. It bothered me A LOT!
I guess the reason it bothered me so much is because in ritual, I really need to feel like I am being taken outside of the mundane. I don’t want to be reminded of work, or paying bills, or ailments, or anything. That time is about connecting with nature and spirituality. And the little bits and pieces of ritual should reflect just as much thought and consideration as the ritual itself – and that includes food. So I decided to look up some recipes. Surely, different foods must make great symbols for different times of the year and different celebrations. Sure enough, they did! From this, I began to learn about food research, food history, the combination of certain ingredients, how to upscale recipes, etc., etc., etc. And the rest, so they say, is history.
Food is such an amazing thing to me. Not just the science and the skill, but the reflection upon history. Whether you are using great gramma’s recipe for biscuits or using an old cooking implement or an age-old ingredient; there is always some story to be told by food.
Food… not just for dinner anymore!
Sure, a few of you may have fond memories of following mom or grandma around in the kitchen, tugging at apron strings, and learning the fine nuances of a pinch-o-this or a dash-o-that.
Not so much for me. Despite the fact that our family owned a restaurant, and we specialized in Portuguese cooking, I really didn’t pick up any cooking experience from my family. My father’s cooking specialty was seafood, which unfortunately was never to my taste. As for my mom… well… I’ve picked on her cooking enough in the past. Let’s just say her specialty involved pulling something out of the freezer, tearing open the box, and throwing it in the microwave. Thus, by the time I was ready to take flight after graduating high school, I was ill-equipped on how to prepare food.
Like many college kids, my diet was pretty horrific. I relied on pizza or subway for most things while surviving the dorms, and things didn’t get better for quite some time. By the time I had my first apartment, there really was no reason not to learn how to cook. After all, I had a kitchen. I had a refrigerator. It was time! So I learned, through trial and error, how to cook. Looking back, I have to chuckle at some of the early horrific errors. I remember one day deciding that I wanted to make something healthy. Perhaps a nice hearty vegetable soup! So I decided to use a crock pot for the first time, knowing that when I returned home from school, I would have a wonderful hot meal waiting for me. I chopped up a bunch of carrots and broccoli and potatoes and loaded them into the crock pot. I also added rice. And then I poured in water to cover them all and put the crock pot on high.
No salt.
No seasonings.
No stock.
Why? Because I naively thought that all the flavor in vegetable soup came from just vegetables. Oh… silly naïve Joe. So what happened? I came home and didn’t smell stew. When I checked the pot, it didn’t make sense. There was this thick glob of goo. The rice that I added had, of course, completely dissolved turning into paste. And that gelatinous paste coated the now mushy vegetables that tasted dull, boring, and like glue. I was so upset, but it was no use. This stuff was good for nothing other than applying wallpaper. So into the trash it went, and I made a cheese sandwich instead.
While my interest in the SCA eventually inspired me in many ways to become a better cook, one of my earliest inspirations for cooking was actually religion. Good little pagan boy that I was, I became fascinated by seasonal rituals. Meticulous detail was often paid to particular items of ritual. There must be salted water. There must be tools used for one thing, and one thing only. There must be wine. And in many rituals, there must be food. Yet, interestingly enough, many groups really didn’t put much thought into the food aspect. I recall one ritual in particular where part of the premise involved bread. Yet, rather than some artisanal or home-made bread, the people putting on the ritual used some very clearly store-bought bread. Heck, it was still in the plastic wrap. And while this may not bother others, it bothered me. It bothered me A LOT!
I guess the reason it bothered me so much is because in ritual, I really need to feel like I am being taken outside of the mundane. I don’t want to be reminded of work, or paying bills, or ailments, or anything. That time is about connecting with nature and spirituality. And the little bits and pieces of ritual should reflect just as much thought and consideration as the ritual itself – and that includes food. So I decided to look up some recipes. Surely, different foods must make great symbols for different times of the year and different celebrations. Sure enough, they did! From this, I began to learn about food research, food history, the combination of certain ingredients, how to upscale recipes, etc., etc., etc. And the rest, so they say, is history.
Food is such an amazing thing to me. Not just the science and the skill, but the reflection upon history. Whether you are using great gramma’s recipe for biscuits or using an old cooking implement or an age-old ingredient; there is always some story to be told by food.
Food… not just for dinner anymore!
