Comfort Food

Childhood recipes remain the center of my quarantine experience in 2020, if I remember to include all the ingredients

Phoebe, aka Pheebs, shows an interest in “May Williams Meatballs”. Photo by Ella Numera Una

I’ve alluded to “comfort food” several times in this personal essay collection. My definition? Something delicious; something familiar; something that reminds me of people, places, adventures, celebrations, or just sitting around the table with the four of us, breaking bread. Something that’s not an epicurean delight, necessarily, but a yummy dish that Mom — or Nana, as the case may be — used to make.

Comfort food makes me feel at home, no matter where I’m eating at that particular moment. I get inspiration from familiar meals; I receive solace from them, as well. A meal prepared with love and shared with those I love does a lot toward taking away the pain and confusion perpetrated upon us by this world we live in.

I’ve made a special effort in 2020 to cook a lot of comfort food. Even though it’s usually just me and Moker gathered around the table, the sense of family permeates each meal. We end up with gobs of leftovers, but that’s OK. I can’t stand to cut down special recipes just to accommodate the lack of a crowd. And when we have leftovers, especially of favorite foods, that means I won’t have to cook again for a day or so. Haven’t you heard that leftovers taste better…