Food Traditions

Kyle.

The English are infamous for their simple tastes, perhaps over-boiled vegetables, their fatty meats like pork and beef, and the strong beers to wash it down. While this is a caricature, and an insulting one to many, there are a good many food traditions (with heavily British influence) that my family has clung to. My mom, who never felt at home in the kitchen, pined for our feedback—assured that none meant complete failure—sometimes there was no possible feedback that could hush this internal doubt. This is British indeed, maybe a way that women in my family can tend to feel about their meals. The dinner table, or sometimes the couch and tele for us, fostered a comfortability with one another.

I preferred bread without butter growing up. Plain was best. My grandfather still loves to overcook his vegetables. I didn’t ask to like Marmite, nor did I realize how icky and sticky others thought of the spread. Anything on toast would do—cheese, tomatoes, beans, bacon, mushrooms, eggs—you name it! Ribena, black currant juice concentrate. Yum. We would prepare the basics for holidays: a roast, Yorkshire puddings, sprouts, mashed potatoes, gravy all over. This meal still seems idyllic to me, reminiscent of good times. For me, oatcakes and cheese means family love. Oh and tea. Can’t forget tea.

Lissy.

The Sundet family’s food traditions are swept up from all over the culinary map and given special life in our house. My mom’s side of the family is a New England, dessert pie kind of family. We spend Thanksgivings together, with plates of green beans, sweet potatoes, and warm rolls. My dad’s side, however, has gathered some ethnic recipes – streak broiled in a kind of soy sauce marinade, rice and beans topped with peanuts -  and these are the well- loved meals for  gatherings on that side of the family.

My immediate family has built its own traditions with a few simple recipes. These customary meals have shaped family gatherings, weekends, holidays, and even regular mealtimes.

When I was younger my family would often have dinner guests over after our church services for a big lunch. A pot of chili could feed plenty of people, so that or a crockpot stew would often simmer in the morning and we would return home with hungry bellies to the smell of spices and cooking meat. We would lay out cloth napkins on the table crammed with wooden chairs and drop ice into glasses, and my dad would play jazz music on the stereo.  

In the summers my mom would make chicken quesadillas. We would come into the house with dirty feet from playing in the yard and sit at the table lit by slanting summer evening light. I would star in awe and fear at the bright green guacamole.

Weekend evenings were a repeated delight in my house. My sisters and I would gather around the TV to watch our best- loved movies while my dad would make us stove- top popcorn and root beer floats. Popcorn is big deal in my house: it feeds a lot of people and loved by kids and adults alike. My dad has perfected the ratio of oil to kernels and still makes it several times a week.

Here are some everyday traditions that give me a pang of nostalgia.

Shared.

Lots of one’s own culture and tradition wrapped up in what and how one eats. It is hard to put into words exactly why a particular meal brings joy or comfort, or shared memories, bringing people together again. Traditions are mostly understood, instead of agreed upon. One doesn’t consciously choose which ones to continue; it happens very naturally. But is it possible to interrupt this passive pattern with something more intentional? We think so!

Since our meals shape so much of who we are, when we share them with others we are sharing a huge part of ourselves. And communal giving and receiving is where the magic happens. Yes, combining food traditions is hard and articulating why something is special can be equally mystifying, but it can be worth the effort. How can we practice and value the giving and sharing our traditions with each other?

• One couple I (Kyle) met told me about the joy they received in buying the traditional foods of a guest staying in their home. It was a way of extending the limitations of their home, and most tangibly loving their guest, whom they knew was homesick.
• Kyle once prepared an English tea, complete with crumpets, preserves, and marmite. I had nothing to lose in spreading Marmite on my bread; the unexpected saltiness was worth Kyle’s joy in knowing that I had tasted something so dear to him and packed with memory for him.
• My (Lissy’s) cousins visited, bringing with them a peach pie. We helped ourselves to second slices, sharing in the closeness that simple communal delight brought. It was and still is the best pie I have ever tasted.

Be proud of your own food tradition! Only then can you come to make a new food tradition. It means receiving honest feedback and swapping recipes; cooking together, and often. It means trying new things and finding new loves, new tastes, and recording them. It’s important to be gracious and open-hearted, to ask “What is both familiar and hospitable?” I am sure that the most gracious thing is sometimes to invite another over and make a food familiar for your guest and, in turn, allow them to share with you. You will only ever regret it a little at most.