The Wisdom of Traditional Meals

'Tis the season for traditional meals. Some we are looking forward to, some we are dreading, some we are skipping this year. Is there a meal in your family where you can count on the menu being pretty much the same year after year? For the purpose of this reflection, I'm thinking about all kinds of families, including both the ones we were assigned to and the ones we chose. I invite you to call to mind the meals that worked, the meals where you felt welcome, where it seemed like generally everybody found something to eat, no one went away hungry.

A lot of us have just celebrated Thanksgiving, and I remember growing up Thanksgiving was exactly the same every year. Was it like that in your family? Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes made by Gramma, cranberry sauce made by the youngest cook in the family, Waldorf Salad and pumpkin pie with real whipped cream.

When I met my partner Eric, he was a little confused by the homemade cranberry sauce, (his was a canned cranberry family) but totally grossed out by the Waldorf salad- which is- anyone else have this for thanksgiving? It’s cubed apples, celery and mayonnaise. Eric had never had it before, and he thought it was pretty gross. That’s fair. I like it, but that’s fair.

But here’s the one that shocked me- he didn’t like Pumpkin pie. Can you imagine! In fact, his family didn’t have a traditional thanksgiving dessert! I didn’t realize how different family traditions could be when it was just us and the grandparents when I was growing up. I just thought that was Thanksgiving.

As I grew up my parents got divorced and moved out of our family home, now Thanksgiving was different every year. While I was in Seminary we often had thanksgiving with our Vegetarian friends, and stuffed acorn squash was a staple for a while. One thanksgiving I was introduced to a sweet potato casserole I actually liked- and thought “Where have you been all my life?!”

It wasn’t until I became interested in local seasonal food, that I noticed the traditional dishes for thanksgiving matched so well with what was growing at the farm. Potatoes, brussels sprouts, cranberries, pumpkins, apples- these are what is available in the fall if you live around here, where those traditions originated. Even though we now get almost any food we want at the grocery store any time of the year, the thanksgiving meal still has its roots in the wisdom of place and season- if you live in the north east that is.

It wasn’t until I was cooking for a family of my own, that I began to understand another wisdom. Those meals where everyone feels satisfied don’t just happen. It takes a lot of thought to have something for everyone- the niece that doesn’t eat meat and hates squash, the half of the family that loves giblet gravy, the others who find that gross. When I had to give up dairy, that might have meant giving up mashed potatoes, but we came to a new tradition -- the bowl scooped out for Darcey before the milk and butter go in. Well I thought it was a new tradition, but I just learned recently that PapPap also didn’t eat dairy, so this was not a new tradition, but an old one put into use again. When people eat together regularly, they begin to know what meals will satisfy them all.

Even when there were only 3 of us in our household, there was a tension between my dietary preferences and needs for a low-fat diet with whole grains and lots of diverse vegetables, and my son’s preference for more mainstream American comfort foods. Through years of trial and error we came up with a cannon of foods we all could enjoy. (And when I go out of town they make a giant tray of mac and cheese the first night I’m gone). Over a couple of decades eating with my partner’s family, I began to wonder about how those mealtime habits and traditions came to be. I thought of how our traditional family meals might be some combination of the foods that were available near our ancestors, and the unique genetic heritage of body and health in our shared genes. My husband’s family comes from Estonia on his father’s side, with a short growing season and cold winters, where it makes perfect sense they would be a meat and potatoes family, and live to a ripe old age eating the traditional foods of their people.

Over years of eating together, that core set of dishes- that can be made with local ingredients, and work with the dietary needs and preferences of those who share a table become the spread we see at the traditional meals.

This is the nature of tradition- like the holiday meal, they are honed over time, year after year as people use them. The wisdom of all those people, who cooked and ate, who shaped the meal, as the meal shaped them. In good times and in bad the tradition grounds us, connects us to those who came before, to the wisdom of our ancestors. And like all things, traditions change… need to change as the world evolves and grows.

One of the things we are working hard on, in our Unitarian Universalist tradition, is to notice who is not fed by the meal we are preparing. I bet most of you know what it is to show up for a meal with a new group, a new side of the family, and stare uncertainly at an unfamiliar spread. If you have a dietary restriction, you know that sinking feeling- there is nothing I can eat here. I’ll always remember my friends rehearsal dinner at a traditional and fancy Chinese restaurant- course after course of beautiful platters came out, but at our table most of our dining companions were vegetarian or vegan, and they sat with empty plates. Finally on the 4th course, the pork came with a shredded cabbage garnish, and my friends took their first bites of the night. The next day at he wedding the catering was all vegan, and I imagine different people were fed and bewildered.

The church potluck is a wonderful example of this process. We start to notice whose plate is empty, and talk about what would make us nourished and satisfied. As new folks come and go we realize the vegan soup is not gluten free, or that the beautiful vegan gluten free dish contains nightshades, which we didn’t realize made it dangerous for one of our friends.

But sometimes, if we pay attention, if we listen, if we say what we need, and contribute what we can, people go away fed. This is a wonderful metaphor for community. When we come together, week after week, we start to know one another’s needs, restrictions, desires. We learn a new recipe with almond flower when the birthday girl is gluten free. We put cheese on the side when we think of Bob, we make the special cake Elizabeth said she loved. I have seen you notice, and care. In a small congregation like Cortland, I know some of you actually have a running list in your mind of what each member can eat.

Once we’ve found a pattern that works, and settled in, it becomes easy. This past thanksgiving my partner made gravy, as he always does, I made my families’ cranberry sauce recipe, as I always do, and some extra vegetables for the table because I like extra vegetables. And Nonie made the mashed potatoes, and took some out for me before she adds the butter, like she always does. We don’t have to think too hard about it.

But when new folks join us, we have to add a new layer of consciousness to what we do. This can become a tradition too. My friend Suzanne who is an excellent hostess, always asks “is there anything you need, or anything you aren’t eating right now?” before I come to visit. I remember the first potluck I took my vegetarian friend to at my seminary. I was so worried there would be nothing for her to eat, but in fact there was no meat on the table at all, except one casserole that had a little tag sticking out of it “warning, bacon!” We can’t possibly expect to know everyone’s needs and preferences, so in the process of getting to know one another, of finding that just right meal that has a bit of something for everyone, we talk about it until we get just the right mix. When we are learning new traditions, or whenw e are including new people into old traditions, communication helps.

Then maybe it will take some learning- we have a chance to grow our knowledge and understanding. What is gluten anyway? And did you know some vegan hot dogs contain gluten? When we first started using the word “woke” what we meant was that we had woken up to the needs and experiences of others that we had been asleep to, that we had not been conscious of, particularly around race and racism. But another way to think of it is just old fashioned politeness, being a good host. At a good meal, everyone goes away with a full belly. And when know what’s in the food we are serving, and whether that is nourishing or toxic to the folks at our table, that is true hospitality, the kind we aspire to in this congregation.

We love when new people come to visit or to stay in this community, but when they do what’s on the table may change from “the usual” It usually takes time to find a new equilibrium. Eventually it is the tradition that at our holiday gathering, cookies baked with almond flour; we may not even remember that we first did this to make sure Betty had something sweet to end her meal.

In this community, though we love to eat together, we are really here to feed one another’s heart’s and spirits. On any given Sunday, maybe there is something on the table you can’t eat, but hopefully there is something you can.

ON our metaphorical table there are things like worship, or pickle-ball, or that book group coming up. In this congregation we have theists and atheists, folks who want more God talk, and folks who want less. Folks who want to run back and forth on a pickle-ball court, and folks who need to just sit. Folks who want worship to lift up the crucial social justice issues, and folks who feel worship should be a refuge from events of the day. Not every dish will be right for you, and that can be disappointing at times, but that’s the challenge and gift of community- to hold our diversity in mutuality and love. Please tell us what you like and need, think of others, make space for their needs too. And be sure to bring your favorite dish (real or metaphorical) just because we’ve never had it before, doesn’t mean it won’t become our new favorite.

As you move through this season full of traditions, I encourage you to get curious about where your own traditions come from, and who is fed by them. I encourage you to notice whose plate is empty, and ask what would nourish them, I encourage you to try new things, experiment and explore,

May this be a place where our tradition grounds us, connects us to the wisdom of all who have come before, and always makes space at the table for new people, new sources of nourishment and joy.