“The question of bread for myself is a material question, but the question of bread for my neighbor is a spiritual question.” Nikolai Berdyaev

This quote seems relevant as I head to Cancun on vacation tomorrow. I expect to eat a lot of fresh fruit and other yummy things while there but it seems that I all too often don’t remember those who have contributed to making what we eat possible. I think of those who prepared the meal, who set the table, and maybe even the grocer from whom the food was purchased. This Vietnamese saying invites me to think a bit more deeply so that I might be grateful for those whose hands are integral to our food supply. “When eating a fruit think of the person who planted the tree.” I am grateful for those who plant the trees and seeds and through whose efforts I enjoy lovely things to eat!!

It seems like no matter how big the party, the majority of the people in attendance will crowd into the kitchen to hang out. Our current home has basically a galley kitchen but a large great room with vaulted ceilings. The galley is actually great for cooking because I can get to everything I need in just a few steps. It becomes a little crowded with more than three people, however! Yet, for our Christmas party it was just stuffed with people! People leaning up against the counters, standing in front of the coffee pot, shoulder-to-shoulder chatting and catching up on the news of the past year.

This little essay by Jo Ann Passariello Deck in Where the Heart Is reminds us of the centrality of the kitchen in our homes. She writes, “I used to laugh at my Italian relatives who always wanted to sit in the kitchen. They even built houses without dining rooms. Big kitchens were all they wanted. They lived their whole lives in those kitchen, around the stove, eating, talking, playing cards, reading newspapers, drinking coffee. When they weren’t around the stove, they were in church, in God’s home, but that’s another story.

Home is where the stove is. When I think of all the places I’ve lived, I think of what I cooked in the kitchen: cheese tarts in Cambridge, beet soup in Berkeley, and shrimp curry in Singapore. Home is where I saute the garlic and chop the onion, where the frying pan makes music.

An old Russian proverb says, “The oven is the mother.” Food, warmth, acceptance, I can find it all at the stove.”

Perhaps Joan Chittister is on to something when she says, “Leisure makes the human more human by engaging the heart and broadening the vision, deepening the insight and stretching the soul.”

May you grow still enough to hear the small noises earth makes in preparing for the long sleep of winter, so that you yourself may grow calm and grounded deep within.
May you grow still enough to hear the trickling of water seeping into the ground, so that your soul may be softened and healed, guided in its flow.
May you grow still enough to hear the splintering of starlight in the winter sky and the roar at earth’s fiery core.
May you grow still enough to hear the stir of a single snowflake in the air so that your inner silence may turn into hushed expectation.
Peace….. the angel announced.
But peace is as much task as gift. Only if we become calm as earth, fluid as water, and blazing as fire will we be able to rise to the task of peacemaking, and the air will stir with the rush of wings of angels arriving to help us.
This is why I wish you that great inner stillness which alone allows us to speak, even today, without irony of “peace on earth” and, without despair, to work for it.

“Life expectancy would grow by leaps and bounds if green vegetables smelled as good as bacon.”
Doug Larson

Banquet Table

“For the millions of us who live glued to computer keyboards at work and TV monitors at home, food may be more than entertainment. It may be the only sensual experience left.”
Barbara Ehrenreich, author, social critic

Tim & Lynette's Backyard

When I’m at Tim and Lynette’s I always feel like I’m on retreat. Dining in their backyard always reminds me of the power of beauty especially in the midst of sharing food and friendship with those I don’t often get to share. My feeling is that if one is surrounded by friends and family and are blessed by beautiful surroundings, what we eat shrinks in importance. At lunch the other day my friend, Erin, shared of her father who grew up in a large family in south Texas. Every so often his mom would declare that they were having a “special dinner.” She would spread the table with a tablecloth and light candles to create a wonderous and magical atmosphere for their “special dinner.” It was only as he was older that he discovered that the “special dinner” took place when they had run out of food and money . . . their “special dinner” consisted of toast and hot chocolate!!!

Even though I love good food, sharing friendship and fun in a beautiful atmosphere is much more important than what I eat. If you feel so led, share with us a wonderous moment that you’ve shared with friends or family.