I hold few things sacred. Over the years, I’ve seen too many people make use of faith, sharpen it into a knife to bury in the hopeful’s belly. (Which is not to say I’m not a theist, but that’s a different conversation entirely.)
Food, though, is sacred to me. Food is holy. When the hungry come to you, you feed them. When guests come to your home, you make sure they’re given food and water. You give them run of your pantry. You tell them, ‘Eat. What is mine is yours.’ When loved ones come to a celebration, you demand they put aside their wallets. You say, ‘Let me care for you.’
Food is communion. Food is a hand stretched for child-you, teenage-you, for the hungriest version of you and whispering, ‘We don’t want for anything now.’ It is why all have our comfort foods: they’re a reminder of those moments when we felt safest, most loved. Food is calling out to those who came before you, those long-dead ancestors, and saying, ‘You are not forgotten. The past is not lost.’
It is so easy to tell if I love you. I will never not ask if you’re hungry, if you need water, if you’d like a coffee, a drink, a pastry. If I love you, I’ll haunt you with food. I’ll text you out of the blue and say, ‘I am making something. Would you like some?’ I will spend days puzzling out my loved ones’ favorite restaurant dishes just so I can make it for them.
If I love you, I will want you to eat. It is me saying, ‘Stay. Eat. Grow strong. I can’t bear to lose you to the dark yet.
My 39th birthday was last week and that whole week was an absolute feast of people. Almost every day, I was with someone I loved, with new friends and old, with found family and kind strangers, with my beloved familiars, who are frankly, still a little pissy about how much time I spent outside.
It seems almost too decadent a thing to be so loved. I feel sometimes like I should say, ‘No. I’m full. I cannot have anymore.’ But that’s not how love works when you’re with the right people, I guess. Food is holy.
So is love.
(I don’t have very many updates for you except that TWO VERY LARGE THINGS HAVE HAPPENED RECENTLY AND I CANNOT TALK ABOUT THEM YET. One is — well, if you follow writers, you can probably guess what that one is because yes, god, finally, it’s happening, I think?? And the second is an unexpected honor via an unexpected venue, and you’ve been following my career, you’ll know there are very few things I haven’t done as of yet and this one was ENTIRELY new to me.)
For my birthday, though, I’d like to be terrible and make a request of you. If you’re the readerly type, please consider celebrating with me by either pre-ordering or buying one(1) of these books
As always, a cat photo to end things with. I hope y’all are doing well out there.
What a lovely group of thoughts and sentiments this was. Thank you so much for this, Cassandra, and for all the joy and wonder you bring to the world.
Personally, I've been without a sense of smell (and most of a sense of taste) for the last nine years now, so I do miss out on much of the emotional and sensual nature of life. But I'm glad that people like you can take such joy in food and the things that surround it and make it special.
I absolutely love and understand this entry 100%
Food is connectivity to the soul. The idea of creating a favorite dish is rewarding in it's own regard, but to bring that inner warmness and nutrition to a loved one is simply and purely magic. You are a special person, Cass.
As for those books, I may have some already, and I am behind and project you allow the world to experience. Congratulations! You are a true inspiration, keep doing what you are doing, you have more support, probably more than you want. ;)