Food

The United States has got to be the only nation where its poor can also be fat. For whatever reason, the healthiest, organic foods cost the most to purchase and take the most effort to prepare. So those who are poor tend to go for the largest volume at the cheapest price, and that typically means fatty-fat bad foods. It also means since the lower class are working many hours for low pay, they tend to work longer hours and buy their food pre-made--again, the cheapest source of fuel. Their time isn't worth as much so they have to spend more of it working and have much less time available to prepare healthy meals at home. It's not impossible, just a lot more work than the average American thinks he or she "ought" to do.

Ironically, girth used to be a sign of wealth and prosperity. Now we pity those who can't afford gym memberships and private chefs.

*Steps down off of soap box* 

Now, to the more pleasant aspects of food: there is nothing like eating a delicious, freshly prepared meal with friends and family. Some of my favorite memories come from huge family Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners, usually at my maternal grandmother's house. Their house was huge compared to my childhood home--a huge, long, partially covered entryway lined with plants, including a huge hydrangea; three bedrooms, a master suite, three baths, a laundry room, a huge living room with a fireplace (which I never remember seeing lit), a formal dining room, then a kitchen and small family room. The yard was fairly large too; it was built on a corner lot and had several trees and a roomy patio. This house could accommodate all of us, my mother's brother, two sisters and all the cousins. 

There was always rice pilaf at our Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners--my grandma was born in the Philippines, my grandpa from Armenia, so we had lots of cultural dishes. Besides the usual turkey or ham, we would also eat tapa (slices of specially marinated, juicy meat--and I'm still not sure if that's the real name of it); cheese boreg (flaky pastry cut in triangles filled with tangy cheese, herbs and butter); kufta (ground meat rolled in some sort of grain mixture in the shape of a palm-size football); and sarma, or dolma (grape leaves soaked in oil stuffed with seasoned, vinegary rice). It's hard to believe I haven't had a meal like that with my grandparents in over a decade--that's how long it's been since their passing. 

While I miss my grandparents very much, the times I miss the most when staring out my window at the Idaho snow are the warm summer afternoons spent at my aunt and uncle's house. My dad and his brother are very good friends. They have a pool, and we would often visit. I got to swim with my cousins and build up a hearty appetite while the hot dogs, hamburgers, and corn on the cob were cooking. Cold watermelon is the best on a hot California summer day. After the exercise and delicious, simple food, we would sit around and just talk for hours.

My aunt and uncle also happen to live across the street from a culinary genius, a family from church whose matriarch builds masterful dishes. Now those meals took her forever to make, the kind of food you only hear about in American history books. This mastery came from hours and hours of cooking, perfecting recipes over the years. Still, some food simply requires a lot of time to make. She and her family are also in many of my summertime memories. Again, the best part was being able to just sit and talk afterward. Their family is very kind and shares many similar views on life, so it makes for pleasant conversation.

I think part of the reason food can supply the fuel for such amiable discussions is that we are biological creatures. Our physical urges must be met before we can attempt to do anything else. In natural disasters or accidents, survivors go back to the three essentials: food, water and shelter. As soon as these needs are met, we can concentrate our thoughts and efforts on deeper, more meaningful tasks. Even more reassuring is the knowledge we have food available the next time our body craves it. I know most of us have never experienced anything close to starving, but even missing one or two meals can make it hard to concentrate on anything but our grumbly tummy. 

So these family meals are doubly reassuring: typically, there are plenty of leftovers to reassure our bodies, and we are (usually) in the company of people who most closely share our own ideals and values. I know it's good to have friends and acquaintances whose opinions differ from your own, but there is something very comforting in coming back to a group of people who don't constantly criticize your core beliefs. At the very least they are family, and families are there for each other when you need them the most.