Gods in the Kitchen
At the risk of sounding hubristic, human beings are imbued with a portion of divine power in the kitchen. We manipulate the elements of fire, air, and water to transform one thing into another. We feel like ancient herbalists when we fine tune the spicing of our dishes, and we usually do it to satisfy ourselves and other humans, not to glorify God. It's impossible to not think of burnt offerings when you're grilling and the flames jump to lick at the delectable meat, and smoke rises up to the heavens (or your fume hood).
It could be said that that which is
pleasing to the tastes of man is
often pleasing to God. In
Judaism, he loves oxen, sheep,
and goat, and enjoys the covenant
which produces "the “soothing odor”
of sacrifice" (Green, 117). In Lucumi
religion, the Oricha, like us, have their
favorite foods, and exceptions. What
one Oricha may find pleasing, another
might find repugnant. Similarly, God
in Judaism would be horrified to receive
a pig as sacrifice. It is in the kitchen that
man and God share many of the same
sensations, and are therefore closer to one another.
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| Cain and Abel offering their sacrifices Gustav Dore, 1866 |
It could be said that that which is
pleasing to the tastes of man is
often pleasing to God. In
Judaism, he loves oxen, sheep,
and goat, and enjoys the covenant
which produces "the “soothing odor”
of sacrifice" (Green, 117). In Lucumi
religion, the Oricha, like us, have their
favorite foods, and exceptions. What
one Oricha may find pleasing, another
might find repugnant. Similarly, God
in Judaism would be horrified to receive
a pig as sacrifice. It is in the kitchen that
man and God share many of the same
sensations, and are therefore closer to one another.
When I return home at dinnertime after
being away all day, I, like the speaker
in the Song of Songs drawn to the "garden" of
his lover, am drawn to the kitchen by the smell
and promise of food. There's no happier, more
energetic and social part of the house. Despite being a
 |
| Smoked Chicken ready to be slow roasted |
relatively small family of four, at least one person is always in the ktichen: cooking, eating, drinking,
working, or just being around each other. If I'm outside, smoking something, I fall into the meditative process of managing a fire and the meat in the smoker. It's not easy,
but it's almost second nature to me now, if that makes sense. When I read Green's book and imagined the
skillful processing of chickens as sacrifice, I instantly thought
of my mother. She's not a holy person by any stretch of the imagination, but if you ask her to
spatchcock a chicken, she'll be done within a couple minutes,
and the cuts will be perfect.
The care that you put into a recipe that takes a
long time isn't dissimilar to the care that gods show
their followers. You want it to be the best it can be,
and you'll get angry at it when it doesn't do what
you tell it to (or at least I do).
 |
| Baking Bread [like a caring god] Aksel Waldemar Johannessen, 1920 |
The alchemy of taking disparate ingredients and throwing them together to create something that isn't just edible but truly sublime has always struck me as nothing short of miraculous. We're able to enact tiny instances of pure creation each time we step into the kitchen. Cooking (quickly followed by eating) has been one of only few solaces for me in the otherwise bleak and troublesome times we have found ourselves in in recent months.
ReplyDeleteYes, not only is there something powerfully alchemical in the coming together of the ingredients in cooking, as Oskar points out, but Jamie, you really pick nicely on the "devotional" aspect of cooking, the caring attention to detail when your mother spatchcocks a chicken or in baking bread like a "caring god" in your last image.
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