I always get excited about the reading for my courses at the beginning of the semester. That's because I'm actually reading the materials assigned for the first few weeks of class before it gets shoved out of my list of priorities as the semester wears on.
I'm reading a memoir called Miriam's Kitchen for Religious Ethics of Food and it has all but taken over my spare time. In it, the author is on a quest to maintain a kosher kitchen by relying on the wisdom and tradition of her mother in law, Miriam. It's gotten me to think long and hard about my aspirations, my motives for eating, but also my purpose in general. And the importance of tradition. We tell stories of the past through a medium of food. We speak love through shared meals. We gain comfort from the foods we grew up with. At first I envied the rich food traditions in the author's life, her ability to belong to something so deeply. But I've started to realize I, too, have food traditions. My mother's chicken and noodles satisfies me though others see only blandness. The olives I bought at the grocery store I bought because the label and description fit the concept I had of the olives my mom always buys. Small things hold meaning for us, and maybe we should consider our motives for choosing the things we choose, eating the things we eat, loving the things or people we love.
While reading earlier today, the author recalled her time in Paris as a nineteen year old college dropout. This, too, inspired me. I am in awe of those who pick up and move, who undertake adventures on a whim. With the little money she had, she managed to string together a life, meeting people and learning more about herself in the solitude of her travels, expectations, and hopes. I want to be able to make big decisions like that, to step out and succeed, to not fear the unknown. I also want to go to Paris.
More on my readings later...
1 comment:
I try and think of foods that my family makes that bring me comfort, but instead I think of the opposite. I don't like chicken noodle soup very much because I would always eat it when I was sick. I associate it with sickness. The good foods, however, showed up enough in my childhood that I take them for granted. Maybe I should begin appreciating them more.
I also think of things that we do in our house that other people don't, like putting crunched-up potato chips on top of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, or putting cheetos on a turkey sandwich.
Post a Comment