Cedarville Magazine, Summer 2013

18 | Cedarville Magazine Fields’ book was chosen as one of the top 10 books of 2010 by Hearts & Minds Books, Image Journal, and Her.maneutics. Even now, I couldn’t say how many minutes to grill the fish. I stand and watch, testing the juices, whisking each piece off when the flesh begins to turn translucent. Each piece on its own schedule. I carry the platter of steaks to the kitchen. The mood at the table today is jubilant. Everyone has just come in from a morning on the ocean, picking salmon from the nets. My four older children, who run their own boats, report a good catch. The northeast storm forecast for this morning had mostly passed. Everyone is still fresh in the season, before the long weeks of work drain their strength and anticipation. I set the salmon on the table, the steaks assembled in a glass dish. Around it, I arrange bowls of steamed broccoli, rice pilaf, fresh fruit salad, ciabatta that I finished making this morning. Meals later in the summer will include wildmushrooms from the pasture, fresh halibut and cod from our front yard waters, deer from our ownmountainside, salmonberries from the meadow, leaf lettuce from our garden — if the voles are merciful. While the food steams on the table, eight faces look at me expectantly, waiting for the signal for prayer. “I’m going to do something a little different today,” I say, hesitant, knowing that multiple appetites are rumbling under the table and knowing how puny the spirit can feel before such need. I pull my Bible onto the table, and before anyone can resist, I begin: “This is from the book of Job: ‘But ask the animals and they will teach you, Or the birds of the air and they will tell you; Or speak to the earth and it will teach you Or let the fish of the sea inform you. Which of all these does not know That the hand of the Lord has done this? In His hand is the life of every creature And the breath of all mankind.’” Everyone listens, watching the food. Then I pray aloud for all of us, that this season we will not forget this. I want to say far more, to deliver a sermon, but I stop, knowing the wafers of fish on our tongues will deliver their own message. Like many in our culture today, I am fascinated by food — not just the handling and preparation of food, but its history, its science, the art of arranging its astonishing colors and textures. All food is given by God and is given as a means to sustain not just our bodies, but also our minds and our spirits. Perhaps I would love food no matter my own life story, but I love it all the more for having discovered it on my own, as an adult. While growing up, food was a grim necessity that I mostly avoided. Breakfast for my entire childhood was leftover 12-grain cereal, the same pot of cereal heated over and over each day until it was gone. Lunch was a single sandwich in a bag, always the same. For supper, we ate cannedmackerel mixed withmayonnaise, lettuce, and raisins, or boiled soybeans, or chicken necks and rice. There was little or no food between meals. We did not cook from recipes —no matter the recipe, we didn’t have the ingredients. Cooking was more a matter of assembling whatever we had and heating it, if desired. But we grew massive gardens, and our winter paucity was eased by an overflow of vegetables that assured at least a fresh salad every summer night.