What is it about sharing meals that connects us?
My mum’s family was big on family reunions. The last one we had with my aunts, uncles and cousins took place on the farm, Journey Place, in 1992.
This memory is bouncy in my head right now because of a couple of things. A week ago, Ron and I walked down to the garden to see if the potatoes were ready for harvest. We have had a couple meals of early potatoes already and they are ridiculously yummy but no, they are not quite ready yet. My family is Dutch and potatoes are loved staple so when my aunts and uncles arrived on the farm right about this time of year in 1992 and saw the plot of dry, slumped potato plants there was a run on the shed for garden forks. We had freshly dug, new potatoes cooked in a canner on the camp stove every night.
Also, we just had our own little family reunion a few weeks ago. Kelowna Fest we called it. A small joyful collection of siblings, cousins, nieces and nephews and their babies and family newcomers.
My sister’s boyfriend ran his first family gauntlet there and she asked him what he liked most about it. “The food”, he said. And it was incredible. My sister planned the menu, prepped, and organized the family volunteer, sous-chefs, garde mangers and commis. Our daughter and son- in-law are natural hosts, foodies and amazing cooks. My niece killed the desserts with ice cream sundae sauces and snickerdoodle brownies. My mouth waters again.
I love big family meals and the camaraderie of cooking together but it doesn’t come naturally to me. During my childbearing decade my friends used to remind each other to eat before they came to my place because I would forget to feed them. Growing up I was often responsible for preparing food for our large family on a small budget. I became proficient at simple, utilitarian cooking. Often a scrawny chicken would have to stretch far. And if I burnt a pot of chili, well, we were all eating burnt chili and no one was happy. So, while I like cooking it for friends and family I do it with happy trepidation.
And I am ravenous when everyone leaves. I have a hard time eating when I am in a group of people. My attention is so focused on the conversation that the act of eating is a distraction. I find it uncomfortable. A mind body disconnection. World’s worst multitasker.
So, I think it was a surprise to Ron when I signed us up for a Feast in the Flower Field, a fundraiser for Fresh to Families. Fresh to Families is a nonprofit organization that makes it possible for Vancouver Farmer’s Market produce accessible to families living with “low-income, newly arrived refugees, and at risk expectant mothers”. https://eatlocal.org/support-us/fresh-to-families/
Organized by Perennial Gatherings https://www.perennialgatherings.com/ and hosted by River and Sea Flowers https://www.riverandseaflowers.com/ in one of their fields the dinner was set up as an outdoor long table. Hardcore introverts, Ron and I have worked on developing an astonishing capacity to connect and build relationships with new people in our professional life. But diving into group of strangers to socialize AND eat was a boosted challenge for me.
We had the best time.
It was a slow warming up, for sure. About forty people, strangers to each other, gradually moving through polite and twitchy small talk to animated, friendly discussions about politics, greenhouses, pottery and sculpture, cucumber and tomato grafting……
It was akin to how the meal slowly unfolded. Chef Alex Lavroff @saltcitrusspice prepared a menu designed to align all senses with locally sourced ingredients. He set up a portable kitchen in the field and brought out exquisite platters of food staggered perfectly to the cadence of conversation.
Yes, we had the best time.
I recently listened to short NPR interview about sharing food where hosts conjectured that sharing meal meant that different people were willing to put the same food into their bodies which is a measure of trust. I like that theory.
Ron and I were in Florence June 2019 for a conference. We studied the tourist book and planned accordingly including the “must eat here” places. The antithesis of “what would Rick Steeves do” approach. We went to a “recommended” restaurant on our first night and that was the last tour guide thing we did.
But that was also an unexpected surprise. The restaurant was dark, packed with long shared tables and vacationers and service was assembly line and curtly brisk. LOL. Not as advertised. We were squeezed next to an Asian couple and our immediate common point of interest was how quickly plates of spaghetti were dropped in front of us and how quickly they were scooped away. I asked them how they found this place. They pulled out their guide book. I pulled out the same one. The four us rolled with laughter. And turns, out we lived just blocks away from each other in Vancouver. Made new neighbour friends in Italy.
Maybe that’s what sharing food does. It builds trust and community and makes the world a smaller, more intimate place that feels more friendly and easier to navigate.
We had the best time.
