Shane and I have developed this unspoken open door policy at our house, which I absolutely love. We love to entertain and we love to take care of our friends. So impromptu dinner parties are the norm and our guests, the usual suspects (B, theSuz, Kdough), have each designated their own spot at our dining room table.
The table in our dining room is the one I grew up at. I used to wake up in the middle of the night and eat cereal with my oldest brother when he got off the late shift. Our family hosted Christmas and Easter, and crammed sometimes 25 people around the table as our family grew. I watched the upholstery on the chairs wear down and get replaced numerous times before it made its way to my first Portland house six years ago. Since then its been subjected to a variety of drinking games that has worn the finish nearly all away, adorned with new water rings and the evidence of numerous games of quarters has been carved into its surface. But in spite of the flaking finish and squeaky legs, it still serves as a gathering place for friends and family.
Mark's Daily Apple
posted last week about the benefits of cooking your own food.
He notes that some anthropological interpretation of surviving evidence shows
rituals surrounding food preparation started tens of thousands of years
ago. This has evolved within cultures into rich and varied traditions.
Food preparation and ceremony have long been tied. Unfortunately, as the
American diet becomes more and more processed and the emphasis has
become solely on quick, easy and cheap, this ritual has been sacrificed.
In
an effort to reverse this trend and bring the focus back to simple,
healthy meals, my neighborhood is in the process of teaming up with Kitchen Commons
and creating a collective cooking group. This is going to be a
phenomenal opportunity to not only learn crafty kitchen skills to apply
at home, but also provides a chance to gather with neighbors and share
our diverse cultural traditions over a communal meal.
This weekend, we had a fuller house than normal (normal being 5 adults and four animals...sigh).
At two am Saturday morning, I woke up to a phone call from my friend Britt who was standing in front of her north Portland house as it was engulfed in flames. An hour later, we had impromptu beds made up in our living room and played hotel for her and her roommates. The next morning we gathered around the table as family and ate stacks of french toast, bacon, sweet potatoes and fruit. Chattering over coffee and food about the previous evenings events, we were giving thanks that no one was hurt. I felt like I was channeling my parents, who managed to make never-ending stacks of hot cakes or french toast for all the kids, plus friends who randomly appeared (especially in high school).
I've always enjoyed cooking for people, as evidenced simply by this
blog. The usual suspects gathered around the table again last night (loaves and fishes people, no idea how this happens) for an absurdly late (or European style!) dinner, providing comfort and relief from a stressful and emotionally taxing weekend all around. Now more than ever I've been reminded how therapeutic cooking
and sharing a meal with friends and family can be and how thankful I am to be surround by such incredible people.
