It's been a long time since I have soaked beans and worked them up into purees and soups. It was such a familiar part of my life for so many years. I knew right where to find the hand lettered recipe, so familiar to a younger version of myself. That me wandered the aisles of small health food stores in the late 80s, soaking up the scents of natural soaps and dry goods bins and herbs in big glass jars which were weighed out on a kitchen scale and bagged to bring home. Later, babies in tow, friends and I would gather every month to unload the co-op semi truck in a church parking lot and separate our orders into piles while the children played. The older kids remember being rewarded with fruit leathers or natural licorice at the end of those long days. We coop women were all so very different. There were hippies in head scarves and tank tops working side by side with Mennonites and suburban moms like me. I think I knew then what a remarkable thing it was: the unity we had. We were driven to live simply, eat clean, and raise happy children.
This week finds us in the middle of a quarantine and the middle of lent. People are growing tired of boiled eggs and tuna, but we can't just drop by the store every few days. I turned to the pantry. The beans were measured out into my Instant Pot for a presoak. The water was drained and seasonings added for a second pressure cook. Finally the beans ran through the food processor. The whole process was wrapped up in one morning instead of babysitting the soaking and simmering beans for many hours. There was no chance I might forget and let the water boil dry, scorching the bottom of the pan. It's a whole new world, for better and worse.
I am grateful for technology that enables me to meet my goals but also for hand written recipes with little, imperfect doodles along the edges. I'm glad of the reminder that before there were glitzy websites there were just home cooks, experimenting, trying to nourish the people they loved. And it was enough.
I cook differently today. My younger children have a different palate due to my autoimmune conditions and things we have learned in the years since. I don't necessarily wish to return to the "good old days" when I was very sick, but rather bring the best of those ideals and practices into my life today. Especially during lent, old favorites return to the rotation.
"There's a reason certain books become classics… We return to great–or favorite–books over and over again, poring over the words, folding over page corner after page corner, underlining key passages and making marginal notes to reinforce our understanding. It's the same with cookbooks, only with the addition of random ingredient dribbles and sauce stains supplementing our other forms of commemoration. While we occasionally try something new, we always return to our comfort zone, knowing that pretty much everything we need to make one of our favorite recipes is right there on the shelf." – Bookslut
Starry Sky Journal 