Welcome!
What is the "Slow Food Revolution"?
I first heard of this moniker about a year ago from the book by
Carlo Petrini of the same name, but my first encounter with the phenomenon was years before that.
Before college, I spent some time traveling across the States in my little Saturn with a friend from high school. We first drove due West from Northern Virginia (just outside of Washington, DC) to San Diego - on Route 70 until Colorado and then down to Rt. 10. We made nightly stops to make camp in little mountain sites and then in the desert. It was an adventure and, therein, my first real chance to carve out my independence and begin seeing the world with wide open curiosity. I owe so much of who I am today to those adventures. Winding through the deep grades within Colorado; heading North up the A-1 coastal highway; and discovering the rogue vibe of 4am jazz in Nawlins; this was my first taste of freedom.
After a few weeks on the West coast, we drove right through the heart of Texas, stopped in New Orleans, and ended up in Brunswick, Georgia at a swampy refuge:
Hostel in the Forest.
The Forest Hostel, as natives call it, is where my nascent understanding of Slow Food began. Travelers passing through the southernmost point of Georgia will reflect on the heavy "poop" smell in the air - an effect of the country's paper mills on the olfactory sense. But situated 2 miles East of the Interstate, lies a 105-acre gem; a saving grace from the road and the smell. A stopover to artists, musicians, meditators, and vagabonds, the Forest Hostel holds a special magic that entices bards and poets to stay for weeks, even months on end. This is how I ended up calling the Hostel home for 6 months.
While visiting, guests are housed in treehouses interspersed through the woods. They are encouraged to partake of the forest, the lake, the geodesic architecture of the main buildings, the labyrinth. But one request is that each guest take on a "chore" that is to be completed for the benefit of all who stay. Chores to choose from include sweeping, raking, cleaning the bath huts, gardening. While I was visiting, I was asked which duty I would be happy to do as my chore. The other tasks seemed to be fairly commonplace and not too engaging; but there was one really appealing duty that had my name all over it.
Each evening, as the lower edge of the sun hits the horizon, everyone gathers to the "Screen Hut" for a communal dinner. This begins with all the hostel folk forming a circle and holding hands as names and interesting tidbits are shared. Then a meal is enjoyed together with much conversation and laughter. At dinner, all those who had been busy throughout the day, or just plain hiding, came together for this shared meal, which was usually followed by music or games played together, or a sit around the Fire Pit.
I knew that I wanted to be a part of creating that meal for everyone to take part; this was supremely enticing to me. So I took on "Kitchen Duty" and became the chef and sole kitchen matron. It was my responsibility to plan the evening meal, sometimes feeding 30+ workers and guests. I had to stock the kitchen from our vegetable garden and the local grocers. Executing the evening meal required large soup pots and cast-iron skillets that covered two gas burners, the likes of which I had never seen in the kitchen growing up. While I had always been happy preparing meals for my family, the portions never extended beyond 4-5 people, so multiplying ingredients to create vast meals and ensuring that no one would go hungry, was all the more challenging. I reveled in those meals; in the planning of preparation; the execution. But above all, was the sharing. Watching guest after guest approach the banquet and fill up their plates with curry and okra. Grabbing extra portions of vegan cornbread to sop up their chili. Closed eyes as the first bite is savoured. And smiles. Everyone talking and smiling while enjoying their long-awaited evening meal. My heart was overjoyed by this experience. And I was so grateful to have been given the opportunity to offer this daily meal to everyone. It was actually a gift that they gave me rather than the other way around.
Perhaps in future posts, I will relate some of the tales of the actual meals that were created while I was the cook there. But for now, let us continue....
As I said, this was my first experience with Slow Food. Although no one had called it that, that is exactly what was happening. Now, maybe I should clarify what I mean by Slow Food, as it could be misleading. Slow Food does not just refer to preparing a meal using all fresh ingredients; sourcing locally farmed, organic produce; using traditional preparation and cooking methods, such as baking, stewing, soaking; although all of these are indeed crucial to slow food. Slow Food as an experience is just that: the experience of creating a meal from its very roots up through the last spoonful being slurped, and continuing until the last ember of the fire goes out on a deep conversation. It is two people in the kitchen, coming together over the simultaneous chopping of onions and rinsing of broccoli; one hand stirring, while another throws pinches of salt; it is someone punching down the rising dough, while the other tastes the soup. It is the bond that develops in co-creating a meal and the pure enjoyment of sharing that meal together. This is Slow Food.
Now as far as most of my adult life is concerned, I have not conscientiously held onto the lifestyle of Slow Food. Subconsciously, I have for sure. In my intimate relationships, I discovered that the hours spent planning meals, grocery shopping, washing vegetables, cooking, and eating together, were actually when some of the best interactions happened and from which some of the deepest conversation developed. As I moved to different parts of the country, attended schools, started my career, I found that sharing meals with friends and roommates became a focal point of our interaction. It wasn't just a matter of getting fed though, but the richness of spending time together through the medium of sharing meals.
I feel like there must be primal roots in this type of socialization that probably spans back thousands of years to our ancestors. In the tribes, where each person was responsible for some aspect of feeding the people - whether harvesting plants, hunting game, or weaving the rug that was sat on to eat - the main activity that brought everyone together at the end of the day was the evening meal. Stories would be shared, perhaps songs sung, and dances stamped out around a fire; all beginning by sharing a meal with every member of the tribe.
Recently, I realized that I have been almost unconsciously honouring the sacredness of bonding over meals. When friends would invite me to come over, I inevitably would offer to bring over an ingredient to add to the meal. Spending time with friends, more often than not, would entail creating a meal together and then sharing it while conversing. But it doesn't end there. I have begun to notice that this is bigger than just my friends and I getting together; this is a phenomenon that is deep in our social subconscious, arching back to our tribal ancestors. This is an experience that deserves culmination. I believe that it can cross borders and bring people together from different tribes, opening up the potential connections amongst strangers; building bonds with people that we may have never had the chance to meet. It is a Revolution in the way that we think about eating, living, and sharing with others. It is a revival in an ancient way of forging connections and starting conversations. I believe it has the potential to bring people together in a warm and loving environment: to share in the art of co-creating a meal.
Rather than just popping in for a microwaved hamburger on the way to a movie theatre, we can make the meal the reason for coming together - the entertainment and the relaxation while fulfilling our deepest socializing needs.
I propose that we begin by opening up our "Eat-Ins," which we are already having in our families and amongst our closest friends, and meet and share with other people in our communities, to facilitate social bonding and reignite the warmth of connecting with others in our human tribe.
What do you think? Are you in on the Slow Food Revolution?
