Eating Together

Eating together and suffering through each other’s successes and failures in the kitchen is a tradition in my family.  For as long as I can remember, my family has tried to eat as many meals together as we can.  We call cooking and baking a labor of love.  And we mean it.  We truly enjoy cooking for each other and eating together. 

This is not unique to just my family.  The community in which I was raised shares this value.  Maybe you are familiar with receiving casseroles after a surgery or a baby arriving.  That is a staple of my family and community.  We are not always able to be there all of the time for each other or say the right words every time but we can make sure you have good food on your table as our way of saying “we understand; we care; we are here for you; we love you.”

In the summer of 2012, a derecho tore through Central Virginia and many of the Mid-Atlantic states.  In my neighborhood of Lynchburg, we were without power for ten days.  This might sound like a fun opportunity for a camping trip but that was not the case.  Ten days of the hottest and driest weather of the summer took its toll.  Many people left to visit family elsewhere or stay in hotels.  But, not my family—we sure were troopers.  Nearly every night, we came up with a meal we could make at the house.  We got very creative with our camp stove and grill.

One night, I volunteered to cook dinner.  I went to the one grocery store across town with power, and bought the supplies for spaghetti and squash.  I sent my family into the cool basement to rest while I made dinner.  When I called them up for dinner, I asked my dad to help me with making sure everything was off with the grill.  I should clarify that my grilling style is that when the grill is on, that’s it.  There is no adjusting the heat or gas or anything.  I just work with it because I am afraid of exploding.  My dad came out to help me and reached for the dials.  But there were no dials to be turned.  In my ignoring the dials and not adjusting the heat, I had managed to (in the 90 plus degree weather) melt the dials down to their center sticks.  After a little bit of work with some pliers, we managed to turn off the grill.

That night, as we shared dinner, we had a great time laughing.  Even though it was miserably hot and I had more or less permanently incapacitated the grill, we were together and sharing a meal—a true sign of communion, a sign that things will be alright.

Communicating Through Food

It did not strike me until I was eating dinner at a friend’s house that some people eat as a way of accomplishing a task.  At their house, the dinner was hastily made by one person, alone in the kitchen.  The meal was eaten quickly, without savoring the food that was made.  I had hardly ever had such an odd experience.

Food is central to my family.  The way we make it, who makes it, how it is served, who it is eaten with, and how it is eaten is important to us.  Food is hardly just a form of sustenance to my family.  It is a way for us to communicate with each other.

I spent a lot of my freshman year at Queens University of Charlotte reflecting upon what my family means to me and how I cherish my time with them.  Food, I found, is central to my family’s identity. 

My whole life, I have lived with my family (my mom, dad, and brother) in Lynchburg, Virginia.  Our yard has an extensive garden from which we get fresh herbs (such as oregano and rosemary) and fresh vegetables (such as tomatoes, bell peppers, and carrots).  The food we grow goes to our plates and is shared with family and friends.

In my life, food is not simply something one needs to survive.  It has symbolic power that binds people together in a common act.  In How to Read Literature Like a Professor, a whole chapter is dedicated to the significance of shared meals.  The symbolism carries on into real life, as well. 

My parents made sure that from a young age, I understood the importance of a meal.  For example, if it is your birthday, you get to pick what we have for dinner and what type of cake you would like.  The rest of the family makes the dinner reservations or buys the necessary ingredients and makes a cake from scratch.  At the dinner and during the cake, we normally compliment the birthday person on their great food choice.  We honor each other through these meals.

Food surpasses its literal manifestation.  It can be used as a tool of communication among people.