Scenes from a Life: Sunday Supper {3/9}
"It seems to me that our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others. So it happens that when I write of hunger, I am really writing about love..." ~MFK Fisher
She has always felt this intuitively ~ that her time in the kitchen is about so much more than just food. For her cooking has always been a form of expression, of communication. It requires planning, effort, care. And joy taken in the preparation can be tasted. So inviting people to the table and feeding them well tells them they are important, valued, and loved.
It's why she cherishes Sunday Supper.
Most Sunday afternoons she can be found in the kitchen. Light from the windows that open onto the terrace spills in, and music permeates the space. Ingredients from the trip to the Saturday farmers' market are laid out and essentials for the week ahead are prepped as she sings (and sometimes dances) while she works.
But there's also the day's principle dish on the stove or in the oven. It's usually something that requires a long, slow cook: a braise, a ragout, a roast. As the day wears on its aroma penetrates her abode. At some point the dog will wander in, nose to the air, and sit beside her looking hopeful. That's usually about the time she sets the table ~ a cloth napkin and her great-grandmother's silverware are essential ~ and pours a glass of wine. It's almost time.
She enjoys the practicality of cooking ~ the ability to feed one's self well is a life skill. It has always been a fundamental one to her, a facet of her independence. She knows how to nourish herself. There is certainty in that fact, and its metaphor is not lost on her, either.
But she takes deep pleasure in it, too. Chopping is a form of meditation ~ it's one of the few things that slows the pace at which her thoughts fly ~ and putting a dish together is like painting with flavours. She considers it an extension of her creativity.
There's also the sense that she is profoundly connected to something larger. Food-gathering and preparation has been a central human activity, an animal instinct, from the beginning. It taps into something primal. And the practice of gathering to eat in community with loved ones is a tradition across cultures and time.
She loves having people for dinner, and her friends know her well enough not to protest the effort. They just show up hungry. But Sundays are quiet. Sometimes she wonders what it would have been like to feed a family. Would her children have been picky eaters? What stories would they have told at the table?
Hunger, and love, come in many forms. Sunday Supper satiates what it can.
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Soundtrack: The Damned, "Life Goes On"
