food

food, Musings

What a Difference a Fly Makes

May 15, 2011

“You were created to travel lightly on this planet, with the same sense of joy that little children have.” – Marianne Williamson

My first job was working as a costumed historical interpreter. In normal terms, I was a pioneer. I can’t believe it now, but they hired me when I was 13. I baked on wood stoves, cleaned pieces of the collection and interacted with the public all while wearing dress, petticoat and bonnet. (Yes, I was very cute!)

One day I was making oatmeal cookies with raisins in them and talking to visitors about Ontario in the 1870s. A teen-aged boy pointed at the batter I was stirring and said that a fly had just flown into the bowl. Rather than stick around to see my reaction, he followed his parents back out of the door and likely promptly forgot all about me.

I, on the other hand have never forgotten him. No matter how many times I stirred and checked that dough, I never found the fly. While I am certain now that he was just messing with me, my 13 year-old self was thoroughly grossed out at the prospect of eating fly. I eventually baked the cookies (not wanting to waste the ingredients or to explain to my boss why I hadn’t made them) and cut them into halves to share with the visiting public.

The story for most people would have ended there, apart from a laugh with their friends about serving fly cookies to people. Not me. Instead, 23 years later, I have yet to enjoy a thing with raisins in it ever again. Raisins bear a shockingly close resemblance and texture to what I imagine a fly might taste and feel like. One passing comment from a stranger coupled with the stress it caused changed something deep inside of me that I have never gotten back.

But where else are there flies in my operating system? Where else have small, seemingly innocent exchanges altered me so profoundly? If you are canoeing across a lake, the slightest nudge in either direction will change where you land on the other side. Which nudges got me here? How can I filter out new ones coming in? And how can I release the ones that don’t make any sense to hold onto at all? I really wish I knew.

food, Musings

When in doubt, add lemon.

May 8, 2011

“No one who cooks, cooks alone. Even at her most solitary, a cook in the kitchen is surrounded by generations of cooks past, the advice and menus of cooks present, the wisdom of cookbook writers.” – Laurie Colwin

Today was hard. Things around here have not been easy – uncertainty is the backing track of my days right now – but up until today I was holding it together. Then I caught the last twenty minutes of ‘Hope Floats’ while I ate my lunch and like a good cliche, ended up on the couch in tears.

Alone, unsure, unhappy, I sat afterward wondering what to do next. Staring off into space was the most useful thing I could make myself do. You can know everything about how to feel better, but when you are in the middle of feeling sad, it’s so much easier to let yourself wallow.

So what was a girl to do? For some reason the only thing I could think of doing was baking. (This is very unlike me.) And lemon loaf, for some reason, was the thing I wanted most. As soon as I started zesting the first lemon, I could feel myself shaking free of the funk. The smell of the zest, and sting of the juice on my fingers, the alchemy of combining and the strict rules of the recipe pulled my focus from my navel to the task at hand.

Lemons, it seems, are the answers to the question of what to do when you can’t do anything. Sharp, bright, needy and vibrant, they force energy in where energy isn’t. So that’s what I think I will do from now on: when in doubt, add lemon.

Would you like to come over for fresh lemon loaf and a cup of tea? They are both still warm.

(photo by Leslie of A Creative Mint)

bbc, food, inspiring women, nourishment

Nourishment

January 19, 2010

“Whenever you are sincerely pleased you are nourished” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

polaroid by Susannah Conway

We must have said it a dozen times over the weekend. The word ‘nourished’ tripped off of our tongues accompanied by gratitude and love. It amazes me how little we focus on nourishing ourselves – on checking in, creating meals with love, buying the best ingredients we can afford, sitting down together with thanks and awareness for our blessings – and either ignore our needs, or focus on the needs of others.

I came from a family that used to say Grace before dinner. In today’s increasingly secular western world it is a rare thing to still find someone saying a prayer over their meal. As I was sitting at our table on Saturday I felt the urge to say a word of thanks. I was overwhelmed by the effort that had gone into the meal. I wanted to say thank you to Leonie for cooking it, to the farmers for growing it, to the spirit of the plants and the animals that gave their life for it and for my friends who were sharing it with me. When you stop to think about how food gets to you, it is really quite incredible. We are so blessed.

I made a decision that day to try and remember to experience food in a more sacred way and to begin to be more consciously grateful for it. It’s quite hard at times. My piece of toast in the morning doesn’t get the same attention as a plate full of food, but it all takes practice. I firmly believe that gratitude is never wasted. I might not say a traditional prayer over my dinner, but if I can keep conscious as I eat it, I hope I can experience grace.

Newer Posts

What a Difference a Fly Makes

“You were created to travel lightly on this planet, with the same sense of joy that little children have.” – Marianne Williamson

When in doubt, add lemon.

“No one who cooks, cooks alone. Even at her most solitary, a cook in the kitchen is surrounded by generations of cooks past, the advice and menus of cooks present, the wisdom of cookbook writers.” – Laurie Colwin

Nourishment

“Whenever you are sincerely pleased you are nourished” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

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