SOLD: Beautiful Happyzine

Now that Christmas is approaching, I’m thinking food, magical food. Tis the time to lay the table, and for many of us ‘foodies’, tis the time to celebrate our most beloved dishes.

Cooking is an ancient and sacred craft, though so commonly used, that many have forgotten its magic.

When I cook, I’m indulging. Because, just between you and I, when I cook, I’m never quite sure what will happen and I get creative buzz that artists talk about.

I’ve got the basics sorted – having long ago learned which herbs go with which, and which spices I have absolutely no idea how to use (ahem … Chinese five-spice). I’ve worked out my own preferred and simple combinations of – egg with tamari with brown rice with greens; buckwheat flour with rice flour in equal portions for gluten free baking; rosemary and sea salt on the Spelt bread …. And I’ve become an ‘intuitive cook’ (which means I don’t really stick to recipes). This style of cooking can irk some people, and not all recipes turn out as expected, but this just adds to the fun.

Womanly Food Memories
As a young girl I remember my grandmother, my mother and my auntie all working away in the kitchen. They would chat about life, diets, family. They would quietly share secrets, or the gossip that wasn’t to be spoken out-loud. And they would occasionally shed their English well-to-do-ness when they struck upon something so funny that they just had to burst out laughing, as one whooping gaggle of mother-figures. I would linger nearby, soaking up their collective energy, and holding out for any delicious morsels on offer such as chocolate cake batter, cookie dough, or once, in an as yet, unsurpassed delight – a whole batch of ‘wrongly shaped’ chocolate éclairs.

Manly Food Memories
And it wasn’t only the women in my family who did it, my father was an excellent cook too (in an old fashioned war-baby Devonshire kind of way) and loved to feed anyone who entered the Squire domain. He would insist on providing us (this included all friends, family and associates) with large, comforting meals. He was a hunter-gatherer sort of guy, so he’d often be slowly coaxing wild hare or a rabbit into a delicious, tender stew. Or smoking fish. Or gleefully cracking nuts. When he hunted, he hunted to feed his family, and never for sport. He never let an animal suffer, and he always stuck to that old respectful rule of leaving some of the food he gathered on the fence of the farmer who owned the land he’d hunted on. What ever Dad fished up or hunted or gathered – he loved to share. It seemed that if nature gave it to us, we were obligated to spread her her bounty as generously as possible. When he’d caught a good catch of snapper, he’d be on the phone to someone ,anyone he thought ‘needed a good feed’, trying to entice them to come for a meal. And then he’d preside over us at the head of the table, occasionally asking us how good the food was (he was an aries), and smiling. He was at his happiest when we were all together sharing his food. Though I must admit he also adored a good fishing trip with his ‘cobbers’.

Today, I’ve worked both my mother’s and father’s essence into my own style of cooking. I rejoice in creating healthy, organic food, for anyone who crosses the threshold of my house. The local organic shop is my other home (I hunt and gather there, particularly in the cheaper bulk sections). I love a good gossip while I’m cooking. I like feeding people, offering them food as an act of love, and of welcoming, and I enjoy seeing my people eat food that will fuel them on, honestly.

This Christmas, I’m looking forward to sharing magical dishes with my loved ones, though I have no idea what they’ll look like.

This Christmas, what will food bring to you?

Tags: Food