I read a lot of words this week. Some I wish I could unread. Some that made me want to throw the phone. Some that made me weep. Some that riled me up and made me remember what matters and what doesn't. Some that confused me. Some that educated me. Some that inspired and comforted me.
But the best thing I read, the words where I found a sense of deep connection, came, unexpectedly, from a weekly cooking newsletter written by Sam Sifton of the New York Times. The entire email was beautiful, but this is the paragraph that grabbed me…
“Food plays a central role in our reaction to tragedy, to death and grieving. It's why casseroles appear on the doorsteps and countertops of those experiencing it, why we feel the urge to roast chickens or assemble lasagnas when the news is grim. Food is comfort of a sort, and fuel as well, for anger and sorrow alike. We cook to provide for those we love and for ourselves. In the activity itself we strive to find relief, strength, resolve.”
When I read his words, I found a shared reflection of my own philosophy around food and cooking and comfort and why any of it matters.
Cooking does not fix or make anything right. It does not change the wrong or undo the unthinkable. But it can help move us forward. It fuels us, both physically and emotionally. It gives us something to do with our hands, gives us something to share with someone else, gives us a dish to wash, a task to focus on, a sensation to enjoy, a smell to take in. It gathers us around a table to share our sorrows. It grounds us, reminding us of our limits and need for nourishment.
Food is never comfort, but food and cooking can create space where real comfort lives, and this week I needed real comfort. Maybe I will, like the author suggests, whip up a pot of Spaghetti or Chili and share it with my family, a neighbor, a teacher.
I hope your heart, like mine, heavy with anguish and longing for relief, can find a way forward and create whatever space you need to work through the mess of feelings that come in the wake of tragedy. May we love each other well as we continue to live in a broken world.
