Author: Abigail Cheskis

As I read today’s blog prompt, I realized that my last post about dinner at Claude’s house nicely answers this prompt as well last week’s. I think that goes to show the consistent themes among Berry’s writings from section to section and time period to time period as well as the importance of preparing and/or eating food with others.

The example which I’ll describe in this post has many similarities to that of the dinner at Claude’s house, and is equally as memorable of an event. In the fall, I was living abroad in a small ecovillage in Findhorn, Scotland. Similarly to a college campus, there was a dining hall (otherwise known as the community center) where community members would prepare lunch and dinner each day. No one was required to attend meals, but many people did, and Sunday brunch was particularly popular. As an assignment for one of my classes, I, as well as 3 other students, decided to prepare brunch from all local ingredients. It was definitely challenging – Scotland is not the most lush place in November. Unfortunately, we were unable to prepare the whole meal from local ingredients, but we made an egg, vegetable, and cheese casserole of sorts as well as a delicious blackberry-apple crumble (with Scottish oats and honey). My friends and I picked blackberries until we had splinters and our hands were stained bright red so that we would have enough to feed around 120 people. The apples came from the trees planted many years ago all around the community. We got leeks and some other vegetables from the community farm and we even bought rapeseed oil, which is grown in Scotland, to grease the pans. It was a hectic time in the kitchen, but everything was completed by 11:00 am on that Sunday, just in time to bring out to the crowd of people anxiously awaiting their Sunday morning brunch fix.

My peers and I described our project and then observed as people read our signs which explained the origins of the food and as they took their first bites into the eggs and crumble. Many people complimented us on the food afterwards, and although I was relieved that the stress and planning was over, I felt that people appreciated not only the food, but the intention and efforts behind it. All aspects of this communal meal made it unique for me – gathering ingredients, cooking (although I learned that the expression “too many cooks in the kitchen” does truly have a practical meaning), displaying/serving, and eating. The communal setting allowed for a more direct communication and a more memorable meal.

“They have maintained the domestic arts of kitchen and garden”

This principle struck me because it reminded me of an experience that many of the Louisville interns had just last night. Carlyn works at Bernheim Arboretum, which we visited for one of our fifth days, and her supervisor, Claude Stephens, invited us over to his house for dinner on Saturday evening. Instead of having food prepared when we arrived, as has often been my experience at dinner gatherings, we arrived at Claude’s house at 5:30, picked herbs and vegetables from his garden, and prepared a feast with food that he had purchased at the farmers’ market just that morning. We stayed until late in the evening, and he told us about his past experiences and his house and its decorations (which were both AMAZING). This is exactly the type of experience which I imagine as described by “the domestic arts of kitchen and garden.” Although in my life thus far, I haven’t experience this frequently, I am becoming more and more familiar with feeling connected to my food and the people with whom I cook. Whether that comes from knowing the farmer who grew and harvested the food or planting it myself, this connection is becoming a more and more important part of my life as time moves  forward.

I also know that my experience growing up and lacking this understanding of food is not necessarily the norm, but I believe that this is a problem that many areas of the country face, partially as a result of the consolidation and mechanization of farms. I was only able to understand these connections by seeking them out – taking environmental studies classes, working on farms, going to farmers’ markets, researching food systems. I believe that living at a college or university, at least for the first couple of years, inhibits peoples’ abilities to practice the “art of the kitchen” and many times the “art of a garden.” Luckily, Middlebury is located in a place which has maintained its connection to food more so than some other areas of the country, and there is also space for the farm. Although cooking may be inconvenient in many ways (free time being one of the largest), there is still the chance for people who want to learn about food and farming to experience it firsthand. The challenge of cooking in college also brings into question the lack of time for preparing food that many Americans experience. Although I’m not sure how it would be accomplished, I think that a change in mindset, which views cooking as a communal or family event, which is done for the process and the experience, not just for the end result, would be an important step in understanding and reforming our food system and our perceptions of it.

Although I think that Amish people may have preserved the “domestic arts of kitchens and gardens” more successfully than the conventional American farm, I do believe that these arts still exist in many parts of the country and that they are achievable and enjoyable in many circumstances, as long as the intention exists. Cooking with Claude was one of what I hope to be many of these types experiences this summer.