Nourishing Connections Through Food in the Age of the Coronavirus—An Unfinished Blog Post from March 2020

 March 29, 2020//April 22, 2021

Nourishing Connections Through Food in the Age of the Coronavirus—An Unfinished Blog Post

April 22, 2021--I discovered this unfinished post the other day. It’s from the end of the first month of the lockdown due to the Covid-19 pandemic. I remember why I didn’t finish it. We were still getting used to the reality of the pandemic. It seemed like something from a science fiction film, and to suddenly find ourselves living through it seemed surreal. In the face of that, writing a blog seemed pretty trivial and useless. Who knew who would be around to read it.

Now, almost a year later, many of us are vaccinated, and life is actually returning to some sort of normalcy. A lot has changed, though, for a lot of us. The university used covid as an excuse to cut numerous positions, including mine, and even though it now has plenty of funds, it doesn’t see a need to rehire people. I also haven’t seen my kids in over a year and a half. Other than that, my life during the pandemic was actually very good.

The thoughts I had over a year ago, though, are still relevant, perhaps even more so. We’ve had a chance to rethink the way we live and to look into how “normal life” perhaps shouldn’t be considered normal, at least, when it comes to food. Many of us were disconnected from the producers of what we consume, were blissfully unaware of the inequalities in the food system and assumed we would have access to most anything we wanted to eat and whenever. We saw during the pandemic how fragile those systems are, though. We also know now how fragile life itself is, and how there are no guarantees. That has made some of us turn both inward to reflect on the purposes and meanings of our own lives and outward to find ways that we can contribute to others’ quality of life. Food continues to be at the center of much this activity and actually now seems to be recognized for its potential. It turns out that it is the “small things” after all that connect us all.

 

March 29, 2020-

-I haven’t written anything for this blog in several months—last fall was incredibly busy, and I spent the first part of 2020 catching up on overdue projects. Then, news of the coronavirus (covid-19) started creeping in from China. Like many Americans, I figured this was something that would be contained and wouldn’t be a serious problem here, but I have friends and relatives living in the countries initially affected, so I followed the news closely. I curtailed my own travels and socializing before the shelter at home orders came in—and stocked up on necessary items. (Yes, I even have extra toilet paper that I’ve been sharing with friends.) 

      Now that people are finally taking Covid-19 seriously, I, like many, am noticing the role that food is playing in all of this, especially, the need to get fresh supplies. I am also noticing the ways in which food is being used to nourish connections. Many people are doing this intentionally—offering to shop for others, posting notices of restaurants still serving through delivery or take-out, posting suggestions for recipes, and offering online cooking instructions. New social media technologies are even making it possible to have virtual meals together, as well as “happy hours” with cocktails and wine (sometimes more accurately known as “wine and whines”).

     As many are pointing out, though, many such intentional displays of connecting through food are for the privileged--those of us who have well-stocked larders, easy access to clean water and cleaning supplies, time to devote to thinking about food, and enough emotional energy to think about food as an artistic and social outlet. What happens to the people who have never had to cook for themselves, to the ones who do not have basic supplies or equipment (like the large freezers in many American homes), to parents trying to deal with traumatized children, to the individuals too traumatized themselves to string together coherent steps in a recipe? 

    This might be a time to draw back and notice the “big meanings in small things.” As a folklorist, my scholarly training has always focused on the everyday, the mundane and oftentimes overlooked parts of life. In food, that means noticing—and appreciating--the the dishes and recipes that we tend not to think about too much, and that we don’t think of as special—until we don’t have them. Fresh greens for a salad? Flour or yeast to make bread? Is it risky going to the store? We also don’t have to make gourmet meals with exotic ingredients for our food to be meaningful. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich can bring back memories of childhood and be comforting. That can make it more meaningful to us than the most expensive fine dining experience.

[Photos--the one on top is my grandmother and my daughter sharing a snack. The paper of the toilet paper cake comes from a post on the Internet and the name didn't get attached to the photo. If anyone recognizes it, I would love to know who made this cake--and give them credit. I love the humor of it.)