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COMFORT FOOD Every fall, as days shorten and clouds move in across a sky that's been blue for months, I feel it's time to gather ourselves in, to rekindle the hearth. When the first good storm comes along, how nice it is to stay inside with the folks we love, and cook a homey dinner for them. This simple task, preparing food and sharing it, is one of the most comforting acts we know. It gives comfort to those who receive it, and perhaps even more to those who perform it. This year fall brought a different kind of storm, and all across the country many of us have been looking for ways to give or find comfort. We ask ourselves, how can we help, what can we say to the children? Sometimes simply taking care of someone with a home-made meal can say a lot. "Comfort food" has been a fashionable idea for the last decade, but it is very real. I'm not talking about wolfing down a pint of ice cream to get over a bad mood (doesn't work, anyway) but the nurturing that comes with the phrase, "I cooked this for you." Sometimes it's a food that reminds us of a time when we were safer, well looked after. But at any time it is food that heals and soothes, food that nourishes body and soul because it has someone's caring work in it. This kind of food can't be edgy or complicated. There's nothing faddish about it. It must be straightforward, like the intent of the cook. Soup is the first thing that comes to mind, and bread right along with it. Both of them take some time. While slowly cooking they fill the house with fragrance, and that fragrance sends a subtle message - someone is taking care. A friend called me from the hospital recently. She had been diagnosed with cancer not long before, and was undergoing more tests - and it all just became too much. Can you come? she asked. Can you pick me up? I brought her back to my house and gave her a big bowl of soup and fresh bread. I couldn't say much, but as we ate together we both settled down, became calmer and stronger. Cooking for someone is a way of speaking, too, after all. When we sit down to eat together, we say we're alive, and we'll keep living. When we eat the foods of our childhood, we say we remember who we are, where we came from. When we take extra care with a meal, instead of grabbing whatever is at hand, we say we are worth some effort. And all the time we are saying to someone else, I'm taking care of you. I've been cooking some very comforting foods these last weeks. Here is one of the meals I made, and you can find the details in this month's "New Recipes". It's good for the fall season, and for the mood - simple, no frills, but solid.
Green Salad Its center is a hearty soup of mushrooms, onions and cabbage, with just a bit of barley. These flavors of my childhood are simmered for a long while to bring them together in a satisfying way. With the soup, I made a potato bread. I rolled it out flat, like a foccacia, but you could make loaves in any shape. You can vary this meal, of course - serve any salad or appetizer in place of tossed greens, or add a wedge of crumbly cheese with the potato bread. Finish with a hot apple crisp, the simplest kind. New crops of apples are filling the markets now, and they are sweet and tart, juicy, flavorful and full of the promise of a new season. |