“Whenever you tell me about someone, you tell me
what they cook!” My then-new roommate’s exasperated tone clearly suggested that
this was not a good thing. It was the
1970s, and women were supposed to be getting out of the kitchen! Our friendship
didn’t last, but I still remember her words. Without meaning to, she pointed me
toward what’s really going on in the kitchen.
My personal company of saints
gathers around me when I cook. I think of Jean when I pull the fat white
cookbook off the shelf. I remember Steve when I grind oregano between my palms,
and Joe when I push the pot of red sauce to the back of the stove until
suppertime. Apple muffins remind me of Madeleine,
and breaking eggs of Margaret, who could scramble two or two dozen with equal
aplomb.
As surely as they guided me from
Skidrow Stroganoff to Roast Turkey With All The Trimmings, my kitchen friends
have taught me deeper lessons. Trying new things leads to some successes, some failures,
and always a story to tell. Taking care
with the littlest things can make the biggest differences. There is always
enough to share and room for one more. Food for the body also comforts and
sustains the soul. Cleaning up after yourself is part of the process.
Not a few Thanksgiving sermons will
mention the religious significance of gathering around a common table and
sharing a meal. But before sitting down, look around your kitchen. Among the utensils, pots and memories, very
good things are happening. Wisdom and grace are found there.
BJ
Brown
November,
2014
