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Tag: heart food

  • Old fashioned or not? Whatever happened to hospitality?

    Old fashioned or not? Whatever happened to hospitality?

    I grew up in a home where the kettle was a few whistles short of a fresh pot of tea.  And dinner only required a few more potatoes before your family could join ours too.  If you needed a bed, we could give you one as well; sometimes that was just a mattress on the floor.  None of this was at all fancy, but I watched my parents do this with sincerity and joy, in the name of good ol’ country hospitality.

    According to the Oxford dictionary, hospitality means ‘the friendly and generous reception and entertainment of guests, visitors, or strangers.’  My parents were always friendly to anyone that came down the driveway or knocked on their door.  Whatever we had, we shared and it always seemed to be accompanied by a fresh pot of hot tea.

    My husband’s grandmother was from the country too.  I remember arriving with my then boyfriend after a very long road trip.  The mountain air was cold before we entered her warm country kitchen, where she immediately bustled about making fresh tomato soup, and a fresh pot of hot tea.  She did it with such enthusiasm and love. And, to this day I have never tasted a tomato soup quite like hers did that night.

    A couple of weekends’ ago, I had two lots of house guests.  One of my guests, after she patted my friendly dog and enjoyed my home-made jam on her breakfast toast, suggested I should open my own Bed and Breakfast.  I admit I was surprised at the suggestion. I had never thought of myself as someone who would charge for this type of hospitality.

    I have formal qualifications in Hospitality and I teach high-schoolers the same, but I have separated this type of professional hospitality from that of home and hearth; good ol’ country hospitality.  At times, it feels that the theory side bears little resemblance to the spirit of hospitality in the home.  But, it should!   Hospitality is about love and care.

    In ancient times and especially biblical times, offering hospitality to strangers was considered a virtue; even a command.  Sharing food with someone else was akin to sharing life and an act of love.  Sometimes, one might even offer hospitality to angels. (Abraham did. This is recorded in Genesis 18.)

    I wonder if the local coffee-shop isn’t a blend of commercial hospitality with good ol’ fashioned home hospitality? I love it when I stumble upon a coffee shop imbued with the spirit of generosity and love; sharing life along with food and drink in a communal sense.  Of course, so much of the Australian coffee shop scene belongs to small business owners, as opposed to larger and more commercial hospitality chains.  Perhaps that is why the spirit of hospitality is so much more noticeable.

    I used to dream of a home where I could entertain and the kitchen and my mess could be hidden from guest’s view.  I don’t want that any longer.  I enjoy it when I have guests, who sit at the breakfast bar chatting while I prepare their meal or they chop something up too.  Just like my visitors did a couple of weekends ago.   And yes, there was cups of tea-and coffee too! 

    As Shana Niequest, is quoted as saying in her book Bread and Wine: A Love Letter to Life Around the Table with Recipes, “The heart of hospitality is about creating space for someone to feel seen and heard and loved. It’s about declaring your table a safe zone, a place of warmth and nourishment.”

    I am not going to open a Bed and Breakfast anytime soon, but I think I’d like to create more opportunities to welcome people around my table, sharing warm and nourishing food as well as fellowship…along with cups of fresh, hot tea.   Does that make it food for the soul? Or just good ol’ fashioned hospitality?  Or not…perhaps it’s just the forgotten heart of hospitality.

    photo by John-Mark Smith @mrrrk_smith on unsplash.com

  • If your heart was a food, what would it be?

    If your heart was a food, what would it be?

    If my heart was a food it would be a chocolate cake covered in a thick chocolate cream. It would be rich, sweet and a little warm just like the memories I have tucked away there. 

    My first memory of chocolate cake involves my grandmother in our old farmhouse’s kitchen. I would have been no more than seven. It was a one bowl recipe where everything was added into the bowl and mixed up with my mother’s Sunbeam mix master.  We baked it in the wood-fired slow combustion stove in the alcove and ate it together at the kitchen table in the centre of the chequered linoleum floor.

    I would have to agree with psychologist Susan Whitbourne who says,  “Food memories feel so nostalgic because there’s all this context of when you were preparing or eating this food, so the food becomes almost symbolic of other meaning.”

    Food memories are also powerful and more sensory than other memories. Psychologists say this is because they are shaped by all of our senses.  They are also shaped by the company, the situation and the emotions involved.

    Food memories work both ways. I still struggle to eat corn relish as I associate this food with the stomach flu that coincided with eating a belly full of it.  I can still remember where I tasted it first and also remember the room where I threw it up!

    Decades have passed since I made my first chocolate cake.  My passion for baking has not waned. In fact, the more stressful I find life, the more you will find me in the kitchen baking.  I have moved on from a one bowl recipe (although I still have that one) to my favourite chocolate cake which is now a flourless one, which requires all sorts of complex processes and finished with a rich chocolate ganache.  One of my biggest joys is working alongside a young person and teaching them how to bake too; just like my grandmother did all those years ago. 

    Food means so much more than what we cook and what we eat. What memories does food evoke for you?  What memories are you creating?  If your heart was a food, what would it be? 

    Photo by Jasmine Waheed on Unsplash