Comfort Food

Given the state of the world right now, I chose to open with a couple of quotes I believe are very relevant.

“These are the times that try men’s souls.” – Thomas Paine

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.” – Charles Dickens, from A Tale of Two Cities

What do Thomas Paine and Charles Dickens have to do with comfort food? Well, there wouldn’t be comfort food if there was no discomfort, right? Paine and Dickens spoke of different periods in human history that tried men’s souls and brought them to despair. Is this our season of darkness and the winter of despair?  Has the novel coronavirus driven us into the darkest days of our collective memories? Have we, in our lust for material objects, taken simple things for granted and failed to see the value in simply being?

It was while contemplating these questions that I thought of the simple things that bring me joy. I thought of my love of food—the simple act of preparing a special meal and sharing it with my family. More to the point, I thought about comfort food—those special dishes that give my soul, and stomach, a feeling of contentment.

For me, comfort food has always been as much about the preparation as it is about the taste. The smell and texture of each ingredient, the preparation and sharing it around the dinner table, are equally as important as the final dish. Can something as simple as food help assuage our anxiety—conjure up memories of mom’s kitchen and not only fill our bellies but warm our hearts and souls?

I have a number of preferred comfort foods but one of my favorites has always been ham salad. I love the taste, especially on a Ritz cracker or a slice of artisan bread. The thought of ham salad always brings back the memory of my mom making it in the kitchen of our house on Chestnut Street.

We called it “the counter”. It stretched a good eight feet at one end of the kitchen and stools sat on each side where my siblings and I shared many a meal with my parents. The counter was the center of our family’s activity while I was growing up. Not only were many meals shared there, but it was also “homework central” and the perfect spot for our childhood projects.

Many a wonderful meal was prepared at that counter, but I distinctly recall when Mom made ham salad. She had a hand grinder that had been in her family for at least a generation. It clamped firmly to the counter, which allowed a good turn of the crank. The wood grain of the handle was well worn from use. Turning that handle was like turning back the hands of time.

Mom’s ham salad recipe wasn’t a complicated affair. I never recall her pulling out a recipe—she did it all from memory. There was leftover ham, whole sweet pickles with juice, hard boiled eggs, celery, and onion. Mom would dice the ham and onion into pieces small enough to be fed into the grinder. The celery and pickles would be fed in whole. We would take turns cranking the handle, watching in awe as the ingredients disappeared, emerged from the chute, and fell into a bowl. Those ingredients would then be mixed thoroughly with mayonnaise and mustard—and there would be ham salad sandwiches for dinner that night.

I recently bought my own manual grinder and the ingredients to make ham salad. I relish the thought of turning the crank of my own grinder, watching the ingredients disappear and tumble into my mixing bowl. I will think of Mom in the kitchen on Chestnut Street and the pure joy I experienced watching her turn all those ingredients into ham salad. As I prepare the ingredients and fasten my grinder to the counter I will find comfort not only from the wonderful memories, but also from Dickens’s words about the “spring of hope”.

“if more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.” – J.R.R. Tolkien