What is Nourishment?

Recently I did a period of time on a very strict diet. I was successful and ultimately lost 60 pounds and was able to cut both my blood pressure and diabetes medications in half. Before going on the diet, my doctor wanted me to add an additional diabetic medication to help regulate my blood sugar and I just didn’t want to do that. So, I was motivated for the sacrifices. That time was akin to a time of fasting for me. I am happy and proud that I did it. I accomplished what I set out to do. 


In reflecting on that time, I am struck by how severely my diet impacted my social life. I felt isolated. Now, as I think about it, my feeling of isolation was likely about me not being able to express my love for those around me through cooking for them. Sharing a meal is such an intimate time of fellowship and to suddenly be cut off from that led to me feeling isolated.

I really love cooking for my friends. It is my way of nourishing you in the best way I know how. I cook with love and respect. I want to take what food you love and transform it in a way that is both comforting and unexpected. The fellowship I experience at my table or in some cases in my kitchen is more satisfying than any other in my life. I have laughed and cried while preparing a meal. I have worked out the frustration and hurt of an awful day at my stove. I have meditated and wrestled my demons, or helped a friend wrestle theirs in my kitchen. We have had many parties ending up in the kitchen with a line dance so full of women that we could hardly move, or just a few of us rocking together to a soft melody enjoying the sweet intimacy of each other’s company.

All of this to say that food may be nourishment for your body, but, at its best, the preparation of food is most certainly nourishment for the soul. This is true for both the diner and the cook. I have experienced this time and time again. I have a friend who was on this diet the same time I was, as was my sister. One day, she, my sister and I went to have mani-pedis and then went to my house for lunch. All three of us had just come off the most severe phase of the diet and felt we deserved some pampering.


I made tuna salad. It felt to me as though I just threw it together and cleaned out my fridge a little in the process. As I recall, the tuna salad had mayonnaise, curry, boiled egg, granny smith apple and maybe celery in it. I put a scoop of this in the middle of a pasta bowl and then this is where the “cleaning out of my fridge” part comes in. I had a piece of brie, so I put a little slice on each mound, then some steamed green beans along one side, Kalamati olives, some sliced red onion, parmesan, and I think some sort of nuts. Honestly I really don’t remember exactly what each ingredient was, just that to me, it was nothing special. I just threw some things together that I happened to have on hand. To my friend, though, this meal was so special, that she has asked for it over and over. 


This is a little frustrating for me, because I can’t quite recall exactly what it was.  I do think that her yearning for this dish is more about the fellowship we experienced this day than the actual components of the dish. We three had survived a time of fasting, had a social time together and shared a meal which cemented the experience in her mind to become one of her finest meals.


Another example: my father in law lay dying in the hospital. The family all gathered for his passing. I tried to make sure they had some food besides that offered from the vending machines. For me, it made me feel like I was doing something useful, for them it seemed to give them some pleasure and nourishment in an otherwise bleak moment.


I had a particular soup in mind, and when I started to make it, I realized I didn’t have many of the ingredients I thought I did. Being short on time, I couldn’t make a run to the store. As it turned out, I put some hamburger meat on to brown with some onion, garlic and red pepper flakes. Then I opened the pantry door. There was some elbow macaroni and a can of Progresso tomato soup. From the freezer came some edamame and mixed vegetables. After seasoning a little more with this and that and putting it all together, I went to the hospital feeling a bit sheepish at the meager offering I had. I was so aggravated with myself that I had not planned more properly and had to just make do.


I got to the hospital and people ate and ate this soup like it was manna from heaven.  To this day, they still talk about it and ask me to make it again. I finally had to tell my sister in law to please stop asking for that particular soup because there was no way I could exactly repeat it. I think here, too, it was about their desperation to find some comfort, and that day, it came in the form of a soup.  I believe that God calls each of us in a particular way. I have come to believe that my calling is to comfort those around me. One of the best ways I know how to do this is to prepare a meal with you in mind.


In thinking about this, I am put in mind of Holy Communion. I used to attend a church which celebrated communion every Sunday. There was something so nourishing about the purposeful walk up the aisle to receive the representation of my Christian faith. That nugget of physical nourishment does so much more to nourish my heart and soul than a heavy laden holiday table full of scrumptious offerings. It seems to me that receiving Communion is really about preparation. The preparation of the Holy Offering by the Officiate and the preparation of your body and soul to receive the Offering are both much larger parts of Communion than the bread and wine you ingest.

So, what is nourishment exactly? Where does the physical satiation end and emotional comfort begin? If you just eat to stay alive, is this total nourishment? I’m sure that there are as many answers to these questions as there are people to ask. In my kitchen, though, I endeavor for both to be one and the same. It is my desire that at the very least, they are so intertwined that one is unrecognizable from the other. Eating a meal at my table, I hope you can taste the spiciness of my love, take in the complex aroma of my spirit and that you are left with your belly full of happiness.