Latkes are such a simple food- potato, onion, a bit of egg, and oil. All ordinary ingredients from a winter pantry in our part of the world. It takes some know-how, though, to make good ones, made easier if you had a grandparent or parent who could help you get the knack of it. Loved by generations, the thought of potato pancakes sets mouths watering, and memories of years past swirling to mind.
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| Paprikash |
All the great traditional foods were born out of necessity, the ingredients on hand in season, perhaps foods that can be made inexpensively in large batches for holiday gatherings of the extended family. Joaquin told the story aft er church last week about the tamales his family traditionally ate during the holidays, and the whole family put to work beforehand -- all hands on deck to form and wrap enough tamales to feed the family through the holidays. He described the holiday stew made from the only foods available to working people. The warm cinnamon chocolate drink his grandmother served with tamales when they came to see her for the Christmas holiday.
Reading a poem by Mary Wellemeyer the phrase “preparing the ceremonial dishes of my tribe” caught my imagination and has been resonating in my mind and heart. What are the ceremonial dishes of your tribe? Perhaps it is latkes, or Christmas cookies or tamales, or maybe there’s not an easy answer for that question. One of the reason the holidays can be hard is because so many of us have lost touch with our ancestral tribes. I know my grandfather was raised Jewish, but when he came to America he wanted to assimilate, as many immigrants do, and did not pass on any of his ancestral traditions. So much has been lost, or taken from us, like those of us whose ancestors were enslaved, or indigenous peoples whose culture was made illegal by their colonizers.
In her poem "The Shamash is the Tall One", Lori Rottenberg encourages us:
But even if you have no memories
of beloved elders chanting a guttural holy tongue
while holding the shamash aloft at dusk,
the menorah compels us all to consider
how centuries change stories,
how celebrations reflect as much as preserve,
and how we shape consecration of our own rituals.
of beloved elders chanting a guttural holy tongue
while holding the shamash aloft at dusk,
the menorah compels us all to consider
how centuries change stories,
how celebrations reflect as much as preserve,
and how we shape consecration of our own rituals.
So if you had no elder to pass on recipes and stories, to show you how to form the dumplings, I invite you to shape your own rituals, your own legacy. All those great traditional dishes were made first by someone, from whatever was in the pantry, for whomever needed to be fed. Think of the great sourdough starter wave of 2020 that grew out of an abundance of time at home and a shortage of yeast. I wonder if children who were little in 2020 will make sourdough for their families? Will the smell of yeast call back memories of a hard time we got through together with small comforts?
This fall our Soul Matters group spent an evening with this assignment: “The invitation is to think of a food or recipe that takes us back to a memory of deep belonging.. Most of the foods people shared were quite simple, those ordinary foods that light up the eyes of those who know and love them, kindling memories of meals past. My memory was of Gramma’s Chex mix. She used to make tins of it for
Christmas, it was one of those recipes from the back of a cereal box designed to sell more product, as simple mix of 3 kinds of check, butter, Worcestershire sauce, and seasoning. I think it is the only holiday food our whole family enjoys. My mom, who makes it the classical way my gramma made, showed up one Christmas with tins of it for gifts, and was a bit deflated to see that my husband had made it as well, his own simpler and ever-evolving recipe, - “there can never be too much Chex mix!” he reassured her. Unlike the latkes and Paprikash, this recipe only goes back 3 generations, and has no special tie to the sacred stories, nor to a distant homeland, -- I’ll never know what foods Gramma Marie loved during the winter holidays when she was little, what dishes her tribe taught her. So Chex mix is what we have, and it reminds us of Gramma, and of each other—those who grew up eating gramma’s treats, those we married, and great grandchildren who never met her. Even so, that’s a story, isn’t it? It’s our story, our tribe.
That phrase “a memory of deep belonging” evokes many kinds of belonging, not just for our family of origin. Here's another story- a new one. A few years back Chalice Circle was going to be held on my Birthday. Well Lois wanted to have a little something special, and knew I don’t eat dairy. Another member of the group couldn’t eat gluten, so Lois learned a brand-new chocolate chip cookie recipe with almond meal. They were delicious, and more than that, I was so touched to be the recipient of hand made food custom made for our time together. It was, no question, a memory of deep belonging.
What are the foods that connect you to your tribe? To memories of warmth and connection? What food tastes like belonging to you?
We don’t often think of these ordinary holiday traditions as important rituals, but I believe they are important because they are so ordinary, because they involve all our senses, and are woven into the fabric of ordinary life.
Sharon Parks, writes in her Essay “The Meaning of Eating and the Home as Ritual Space” “These meals celebrate the connections among things They symbolize bonds that transcend geography and generations. They mark the affirmation of a shared way of life – shared commitments and vocation. Each affirms ongoing continuity even in the midst of discontinuity and change.” [p. 184] “ A home where people share meals together easily becomes a ritual space. A home is the context in which food, meals and feasts repeatedly order the life of our everyday and transmit the stories and expectations of our lives across generations. We do not have to reflect very long upon the power of food to begin to see why it has such symbolic ritual power and why meals, whether ordinary or special, can function as complex symbols, keys to whole patterns of relationship between ourselves and other elements of our lives- persons , things and the source of all food, the earth itself.” [p. 185]
This fall our Soul Matters group spent an evening with this assignment: “The invitation is to think of a food or recipe that takes us back to a memory of deep belonging.. Most of the foods people shared were quite simple, those ordinary foods that light up the eyes of those who know and love them, kindling memories of meals past. My memory was of Gramma’s Chex mix. She used to make tins of it for
Christmas, it was one of those recipes from the back of a cereal box designed to sell more product, as simple mix of 3 kinds of check, butter, Worcestershire sauce, and seasoning. I think it is the only holiday food our whole family enjoys. My mom, who makes it the classical way my gramma made, showed up one Christmas with tins of it for gifts, and was a bit deflated to see that my husband had made it as well, his own simpler and ever-evolving recipe, - “there can never be too much Chex mix!” he reassured her. Unlike the latkes and Paprikash, this recipe only goes back 3 generations, and has no special tie to the sacred stories, nor to a distant homeland, -- I’ll never know what foods Gramma Marie loved during the winter holidays when she was little, what dishes her tribe taught her. So Chex mix is what we have, and it reminds us of Gramma, and of each other—those who grew up eating gramma’s treats, those we married, and great grandchildren who never met her. Even so, that’s a story, isn’t it? It’s our story, our tribe. That phrase “a memory of deep belonging” evokes many kinds of belonging, not just for our family of origin. Here's another story- a new one. A few years back Chalice Circle was going to be held on my Birthday. Well Lois wanted to have a little something special, and knew I don’t eat dairy. Another member of the group couldn’t eat gluten, so Lois learned a brand-new chocolate chip cookie recipe with almond meal. They were delicious, and more than that, I was so touched to be the recipient of hand made food custom made for our time together. It was, no question, a memory of deep belonging.
What are the foods that connect you to your tribe? To memories of warmth and connection? What food tastes like belonging to you?
We don’t often think of these ordinary holiday traditions as important rituals, but I believe they are important because they are so ordinary, because they involve all our senses, and are woven into the fabric of ordinary life.
Sharon Parks, writes in her Essay “The Meaning of Eating and the Home as Ritual Space” “These meals celebrate the connections among things They symbolize bonds that transcend geography and generations. They mark the affirmation of a shared way of life – shared commitments and vocation. Each affirms ongoing continuity even in the midst of discontinuity and change.” [p. 184] “ A home where people share meals together easily becomes a ritual space. A home is the context in which food, meals and feasts repeatedly order the life of our everyday and transmit the stories and expectations of our lives across generations. We do not have to reflect very long upon the power of food to begin to see why it has such symbolic ritual power and why meals, whether ordinary or special, can function as complex symbols, keys to whole patterns of relationship between ourselves and other elements of our lives- persons , things and the source of all food, the earth itself.” [p. 185]
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| Mom's Pumpkin Pie |
My mom’s family was for some reason cut off from their roots -- there is little knowledge of ancestors, few heirlooms or traditions or recipes past from one generation to the rest, a gap my mom felt very keenly. So one year my mom made me a binder of the recipes she used for the holidays we celebrate, an intentional legacy. What recipes would you pass on through your web of connection? What legacy would you share from the celebratory meals of your tribe, from moments of belonging? These stories are ours to share, and our gift to one another.
Perhaps this could be a spiritual practice for the coming holidays -- whether you are celebrating Hanukkah, Solstice or Christmas or just need some comfort food to get through the cold grey winter -- to remember and share the foods that feel like belonging to you. I invite you to practice weaving those threads of connection- generation to generation and heart to heart. Make the food if you can and share it, and the stories that go with it. Perhaps they remind you of the holiday miracles, like in today’s story, or perhaps the simple but no less precious miracle of people connecting and nourishing one another -- heart, body and spirit.
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| Nonnie's Nut Roll |
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