I often reference here on the ol’ blog my lifelong cultivated, deeply meaningful relationship with food—even before adopting a vegan lifestyle, I viewed my personal food choices as profoundly political acts, votes against an exploitative agricultural system dominated by a corrupt corporate-governmental alliance and for a mode of food production that nourished the earth and all of its inhabitants. Hell, I felt like Wonder Woman (the not overly sexualized version reinforcing the patriarchy) every time I shopped at the farmers’ market, kicking the butts of the GMO and pharmaceutical industries with my three bunches of organic lacinato kale. My food activism has become much more nuanced and effective since the days in which I understood supporting local farmers as the utmost act of social justice, and in turn, my appreciation for unprocessed, unpolluted, unchemicalized (it can be a word, don’t worry about it), unexploitative food has only intensified.
Though this omnipresent connection with food prompts me to recognize my every meal as celebratory events (even the packed lunches I shovel into my mouth between classes), some meals inspire in me a more acute sense of nourishment—both internal and external—than others. Last night’s Ferry Dinner offered one of these special meals.
While yesterday boasted a rather balmy temperature of 80 degrees, it also featured gloomy skies and an overall atmosphere of grayness. Thus, when Ferries Robyn and Matt presented the house with a dinner of steaming chickpea-tomato soup and rosemary roasted potatoes, I experienced a feeling of comfort akin to an embrace from an old friend. Since Robyn set the soup to simmer about two hours before dinnertime, the wafting aroma of savory herbs vastly ameliorated the task of reading rather dry articles of China’s economic development, and only contributed to the sense of fulfillment engendered by my first spoonful of the soup.
Robyn and Matt’s soup featured home-simmered chickpeas, carrots with their greens, celery, mushrooms, and herbs in a tomato broth, while the roasted potatoes harbored a strong flavor of fresh rosemary, as well as an impeccable balance between creaminess and crunchiness. I honestly could not offer this meal any higher praise, and feel indescribably lucky to have enjoyed it among the most caring, kind, witty, and thoughtful housemates in existence. Joy consumes me every day that I live in Ferry House.
Do you have a space in which you feel profoundly at home? Is there a particular food or dish that contributes to this sense?
Until next time, Ali.