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 betweenmeals. 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.
