Food

The problem with food is that as it has become more and more convenient it has become less and less nutritious. Now days we have fast food and ready meals and everything prepared, packaged and ready for us whenever we want it. We live in a world of instant gratification where what we want is only a microwave away.

Seems very sad to me. Our children don’t know where their eggs come from or where their burger originated from. They don’t realise the simplest things about the food that is presented to them. And slowly but surely they are forgetting how to cook.

We learn to cook from our parents and the adults around us. When food is zapped we learn that the world is handed to us, meals arrive with minimal inconvenience and no work. But in taking this away from our children and our lives we are taking away one of life’s simple joys. The joy of planning and executing a tasty meal of our own creation. We lose the tactile expression of love for our nearest and dearest, we lose the relaxation of kneading dough and rolling pastry. We lose a part of selves when we resort to take away and ready meals.

This is not to say that we have to create massive complex designer meals. Far from it. Even the simplest of meals can be tasty and exciting. And it can be an opportunity to spend time with our children and teach them the things we were taught.

In my family food is an expression of love. We usually over cater all events, I know I do. When I cook it is an expression of how I feel about the people I’m cooking for, a gift to them, a gift of my time and my thought and what little skills I have. When we cook we allow ourselves creativity and we allow ourselves a freedom we rarely have in the rest of our lives.

I remember school holidays making cup cakes with my mum, and chocolate cake made by my grossmama and chicken pie made by my gran. All such glorious gifts. Now days my gran doesn’t make her own puff pastry, even she thinks the frozen stuff is just as good. But the meals that I have been gifted with remain with me, remind me of the love of the women in my family.
When my grossmama died each of us women were given a copy of her chocolate cake recipe. Let me explain, grossmama’s chocolate cake was phenomenal, it was thick and rich and chocolaty and so delicious it would make you weep. We’ve all tried to make her recipe and none of us can get it right. Our efforts are just fine but none of us can replicate that amazing cake. At her funeral a friend of mine told me that we would never be able to make that cake using that recipe, “You see,” Jonathan told me. “Your grossmama used to have a secret ingredient. She made her chocolate cake with love”. And that is the truth.

We have an opportunity to show our love in a very real and wonderful way. Even the simplest meal can express to someone else our love and our care for them.