Devotional Cooking - Religion in the Kitchen

By: Bridget Dresser

    Cooking has powerful cultural roots in every continent that humans have inhabited. Dishes and customs from different cultures tell stories of hardship, war, famine, disease, but most importantly the story of survival. Through it all humans had the meals that kept them alive, passed down through generations. Things that children all around the world now get to groan at in disgust or complain about eating because of the dish’s lack of survival necessity in the modern era, nevertheless being preserved as tradition. Fermented shark meat from Iceland, century eggs from China, borscht recipes from different Slavic cultures, haggis from Scotland, as well as more stigmatized dishes that were the foundations of survival in black enslaved communities like chitlins and oxtail.   

As we previously discussed, religious culture and ritual surrounding the taking of time to cook for deities despite already being forced into servitude deepened the meaning of the work and gives the dish more power because of intention and choice. The relationship that the Lucumi nurture with their deities, the orishas, is one of devotion beyond everyday actions or words of affirmation or affection. As Perez states in Religion in the kitchen: cooking, talking, and the making of Black Atlantic traditions,  

“By offering food in addimú (offerings) to the orishas, whether on festive occasions or somber ones, practitioners today attempt to cross the divide thought to separate divine other from human self.” (Perez, 57)  

 

Havana - Cuba - 2942

They grow true spiritual bonds with their deities, learning their favorite colors, clothing, foods, scents, and experiences such as cigar smoking, all so that their deity might experience their favorite things through them. Perez relates the relationship of a practitioner and their orisha to that of a budding romance, in which one is still learning about their partner and proving their devotion to them,  

“She requests a token of affection that will cost him something in time, money, and effort, yet is relatively easy to obtain...When Caroline’s admirer complies with her wishes, the oxtails serve as not only proof of his devotion, but also a gateway to knowledge about her.” (Perez, 56) 

Taking care of the people in your community is a labor of love and working together to nourish each other connects us in a beautiful and evolutionary way. To provide for others is to give a part of yourself, this can either reinforce or weaken a relationship depending on the symbiotic transaction between two parties. I frame these interactions as transactional in the sense that both parties are receiving something of value from an exchange, not in the modern sense of needing something of value in exchange for services or items of equivalent value. This type of transaction is one of mutual beneficial actions, not monetary value. 

Christmas dinner my dad made (mom is taking pic)

Cooking is a love language for many people on top of it’s necessity, because acts of service take time and energy out of your day to provide something meaningful for someone else. Providing nourishment and sustenance have been staples of hospitality since society was formed. To take time to follow that custom, especially in the modern era when one could just order Uber-eats instead, is a more powerful action than we give credit to. My dad has always loved cooking for the people he loves, ever since he moved away from home and learned to cook for himself. It started out simply, making omelets for friends who crashed on the couch after a night of partying, quesadillas for still drunk friends, making dinner for his dates (eventually my mother), and feeding his housemates grilled cheese and chili. As he grew older, he began to truly love it as a hobby, and by the time I was born he took pride in his fully stocked kitchen and experimental takes on classic dishes like tikka masala, beef roasts, and corn chowder.  Taste is my father's favorite sense, and his love of taste has impassioned my own in my adulthood, once my brain began developing a liking for the more “grown up” tastes that add complexity to the simple salty and sweet flavors I craved from my youth. Now I proudly hold the title of "hall chef", and I take pride in doing the same small acts of devotion my dad did in his youth, making quesadillas and grilled cheese for my friends and making sure they don't starve during finals.