People are kind. Incredibly kind.
I've taken an extended break from my new practice of blogging in order to mourn the passing of my father. I don't plan to write about this loss here, except to say that food seems to be integral to the mourning process. Jewish practice is for mourners to be served a "meal of consolation" after they return home from the funeral. This meal frequently features hard-boiled eggs as eggs are almost universal symbols of new life, whether the meaning be fertility, resurrection, or the cycle of creation. However, almost any round food will do. While this meal is imbued with symbolism, this practice also serves as a way to make sure that the mourners eat something, as they might not feel hungry during their grief. I will say that personally, I ate a ton during shiva (the week-long period after the funeral). Partially, this was due to feeling incredibly sad and being convinced that my pain was physical. Not being able to determine what was wrong with me, I just assumed I was hungry. I attempted to fill the void with traditional Jewish soul food: deli and Chinese. No, really. All I wanted was pastrami, wonton soup, and Singapore noodles. And people brought so much food. But it turned out, despite my massive consumption of carbs and salted meats, I was not hungry. I was just sad.
One of the most jarring features of the shiva was being in my mother's house and not seeing her cook. Not once. She barely used the stove to make her constantly brewing moka pot of espresso (a neighbor lent us her Keurig). I like to say that I come from food. And from cooking. And that all comes from my mother's warm and hospitable kitchen. And I know that cooking makes her happy. But when you're mourning a loss of a loved one, you can't do things that make you happy. And so this post includes no recipes.
Have you any associations with eating and mourning? Any cultural traditions? Sad or funny stories?
