June 28th, 2022
Because I’ve lived here my whole life, I have a very American way of viewing food and eating. The quicker the better, for everything: the preparation, eating, even the shopping. Meals were the thing in-between what was happening in my life.
In the last couple of years I’ve been reading a lot more about food. I want to nourish my body and my soul and what I was doing, the way I’ve always done things, isn’t cutting it.
I’ve returned to a book by Mireille Guiliano several times in the couple years. The way she sees eating changes me. I keep going back because I’m refreshed by the gladness she takes in meals. Not as in-betweens, but important moments in themselves.
Taking time to adjust my perspective on meals, a little habit change here and there, more care for the grocery trips, less frustration in longer preparations, more intention to linger at a meal, it’s all changed me, a bit at a time.
One thing that’s been missing is our lunch hour. I haven’t really set a rhythm around it. It feels hard to do because it’s in the middle of the day, in the middle of everything. But maybe that’s what makes it more important. Taking the time to pause and reflect on a morning, breathe before an afternoon and evening. Stop. Be. I have written across on of my journals from like 10 years ago, I’m a human being, not human doing. I don’t think that hits everyone the same way. But it’s stuck with me.
Our lives are made up of years which are just months lumped together, and months are just the weeks made sensible and tidy for our calendar, and our weeks are just our days… so my days are my life. And I think… how do I want to live it?Certainly not rushing from task to task so often I can’t sit at a table and savor a meal, taking pleasure in each bite because I’m present enough to pay attention to the textures and flavors and temperatures and joy of the things that make up my plate.
I don’t want my life to be such a buzz my children don’t remember sitting down and thanking God for the provision of whole foods and a safe and beautiful home to enjoy them in together, and often.
I’m the mom who eats what she’s cooking while she’s over the pot and in the mess, before I’m at the table with my people. But I want to choose differently. I want to prep patiently, I want to sit at the table hungry: for the food, for the conversation, for what happens when we enjoy a meal socially, hungry to become the kind of person who dines long and well, no matter what’s on the menu.
