I've read this twice now. Like 4 AM this morning, and a few minutes ago. I was right to have been impressed, and triggered as always, by the way you relate a process of life, or rather one way to deal with life and the physically irreversible part we call death that I ended up helping thousands of people to deal with through my previous career. There was always food, and always cooking, and always choreography to be learned through observation, or repetition, or just diving right in. If you visualize anything, it's the choreography of cooking, of making a thing, of seeing in your mind or in a video or a visual the actual movements that are the dance steps of a recipe. Often, failure and missteps are our best teachers, perhaps our best and harshest critics, especially if amplified by the person criticizing the performance. I'm glad you're understanding the things that Tashi was doing not only for himself, but in his role as a loving son to his mother, brother, friends, and whoever else was listening. When someone dies, or is dying, they are experiencing the part of life that most people are unwilling to accept - they shouldn't - or unable to accept as the end of the physical part. He is vibrantly alive within you and in those with whom he shared. It is an unbreakable bond. No, you can't control when memories or feelings come on stage, sometimes in bitter cold, often when you feel you are most vulnerable and unable to take another step. You can, however, accept them all as the gift they are. Keeps you on your toes, eh? Sometimes people use recipes (and their authors) as deflectors, shields against criticism, or to hide their fears about not performing in a way they would like to. Most people buy cookbooks as aspirational tools, anyway. When you cook food, you're always sharing. That something is never just food. It's your contribution to this dance that is life, which is just as valuable and exciting and sustaining as improvisation as it is if you followed the choreographed recipe of someone else. Whoever you are cooking for is much more interested in communicating with your food than someone else's, because you're making it and sharing so much more than rice and radicchio. A little bit of Tashi. Beautiful.
When I graduated from Culinary school back in 2003 in the Napa Valley, I briefly met Nancy Harmon Jenkins at the Culinary Institute of America during the World of Flavors Conference up there. I was instantly drawn to her books on the Mediterranean. And it was to my surprise when I moved to Midcoast Maine a year later, she was a nearby resident! Always found Nancy's recipes did work (some cookbooks recipes by some authors may not always work) flavoring to be so pleasing.
We learned early in Culinary School to read through recipes well beforehand, understand the cooking technique before starting to cook the recipe.
Naomi, I learned that one gift of living with a beloved who is dying is the deep intimacy. Also, it took a while, but eventually you can remember them again in the before days, when they were still healthy. That said, every experience of grief is unique. Sharing yours will help others navigate theirs. I bow to your courage.
Tashi is right about transparency even if it is not always easy when some people have difficulty understanding what a sick person goes through. I went and still go through that but as you say and Tashi one feel better with reality. Following a recipe on phone is difficult I use my pad as it’s more easy to read the whole recipe. You are right reading twice a new recipe is needed. And, I do pay attention with recipes I wrote for my cookbooks and didn’t prepared for a long time. As I am getting older I even sometimes don’t remember all the ingredients that goes in dish I prepare frequently. Maybe it is as remembering names I learned it is normal with age.
lovely essay, and thank you for sharing your journey with us. I had to laugh about following the recipe as I've had that same experience - sometimes with my own published recipes from long ago (whereupon I joke, what was this author thinking?) - but truly the phone is difficult, and I also do think, as recipe writers, we think we can breeze through someone else's recipe, when in reality we have to give it as much respect as we hope someone would give ours. Thank you for making me think about that.
Naomi, do you know Paula Butturini's memoir Keeping the Feast? She is a fine writer and journalist. In this book she writes about her husband's near fatal gunshot wound in some terrible war in Romania (he also a journalist), and the long years it took to effect his physical, mental, and emotional recovery. It's about grief, it's about food (Paula's also a great cook), it's about love, it's about what unites us and very often that's the table where we share so intimately. If you don't know the book, let me know and I'll send you my copy.
What a gift to read your words, always; and I must note the pop of delight I felt reading your words on adding a little hot water from the pit to “lengthen the sauce”. Exactly!
I've read this twice now. Like 4 AM this morning, and a few minutes ago. I was right to have been impressed, and triggered as always, by the way you relate a process of life, or rather one way to deal with life and the physically irreversible part we call death that I ended up helping thousands of people to deal with through my previous career. There was always food, and always cooking, and always choreography to be learned through observation, or repetition, or just diving right in. If you visualize anything, it's the choreography of cooking, of making a thing, of seeing in your mind or in a video or a visual the actual movements that are the dance steps of a recipe. Often, failure and missteps are our best teachers, perhaps our best and harshest critics, especially if amplified by the person criticizing the performance. I'm glad you're understanding the things that Tashi was doing not only for himself, but in his role as a loving son to his mother, brother, friends, and whoever else was listening. When someone dies, or is dying, they are experiencing the part of life that most people are unwilling to accept - they shouldn't - or unable to accept as the end of the physical part. He is vibrantly alive within you and in those with whom he shared. It is an unbreakable bond. No, you can't control when memories or feelings come on stage, sometimes in bitter cold, often when you feel you are most vulnerable and unable to take another step. You can, however, accept them all as the gift they are. Keeps you on your toes, eh? Sometimes people use recipes (and their authors) as deflectors, shields against criticism, or to hide their fears about not performing in a way they would like to. Most people buy cookbooks as aspirational tools, anyway. When you cook food, you're always sharing. That something is never just food. It's your contribution to this dance that is life, which is just as valuable and exciting and sustaining as improvisation as it is if you followed the choreographed recipe of someone else. Whoever you are cooking for is much more interested in communicating with your food than someone else's, because you're making it and sharing so much more than rice and radicchio. A little bit of Tashi. Beautiful.
Thank-you Ken. It's all interwoven, our actions, necessities, emotional landscapes, relationships... Food is such a grounding space ❤️☀️☀️
This is such a lovely piece Naomi. I’m sharing it with other people who really need your wisdom right now. And Tashi’s. ❤️
Thank-you. So glad. 🙏🙏☀️
Tashi was a beautiful, empathetic, kind human being who has taught us so much. His words echo in my heart and soul. Thank you for sharing this, Nom 🩷
Thanks Shayma...☀️☀️
Really skilled blend of grief and cooking here. Thank you for writing about it all.
Thank-you Pam ☀️🧡
When I graduated from Culinary school back in 2003 in the Napa Valley, I briefly met Nancy Harmon Jenkins at the Culinary Institute of America during the World of Flavors Conference up there. I was instantly drawn to her books on the Mediterranean. And it was to my surprise when I moved to Midcoast Maine a year later, she was a nearby resident! Always found Nancy's recipes did work (some cookbooks recipes by some authors may not always work) flavoring to be so pleasing.
We learned early in Culinary School to read through recipes well beforehand, understand the cooking technique before starting to cook the recipe.
As always, thank you Naomi ❣️
Naomi, I learned that one gift of living with a beloved who is dying is the deep intimacy. Also, it took a while, but eventually you can remember them again in the before days, when they were still healthy. That said, every experience of grief is unique. Sharing yours will help others navigate theirs. I bow to your courage.
Thank-you Michelle. It all takes time, this living through. Hugs.
This is splendid!
Thank-you!
Tashi is right about transparency even if it is not always easy when some people have difficulty understanding what a sick person goes through. I went and still go through that but as you say and Tashi one feel better with reality. Following a recipe on phone is difficult I use my pad as it’s more easy to read the whole recipe. You are right reading twice a new recipe is needed. And, I do pay attention with recipes I wrote for my cookbooks and didn’t prepared for a long time. As I am getting older I even sometimes don’t remember all the ingredients that goes in dish I prepare frequently. Maybe it is as remembering names I learned it is normal with age.
Reading this wonderful essay gave me a warm fuzzy a little sad feeling I could actually taste.
Thank-you Elli ☀️☀️🙏
My heart goes out to you.
Thank-you Dianne 🙏☀️
lovely essay, and thank you for sharing your journey with us. I had to laugh about following the recipe as I've had that same experience - sometimes with my own published recipes from long ago (whereupon I joke, what was this author thinking?) - but truly the phone is difficult, and I also do think, as recipe writers, we think we can breeze through someone else's recipe, when in reality we have to give it as much respect as we hope someone would give ours. Thank you for making me think about that.
Thank-you!
Naomi, do you know Paula Butturini's memoir Keeping the Feast? She is a fine writer and journalist. In this book she writes about her husband's near fatal gunshot wound in some terrible war in Romania (he also a journalist), and the long years it took to effect his physical, mental, and emotional recovery. It's about grief, it's about food (Paula's also a great cook), it's about love, it's about what unites us and very often that's the table where we share so intimately. If you don't know the book, let me know and I'll send you my copy.
I don't know the book. Will be away. Don't bother sending your copy!! 🧡🙏🧡🧡🧡
What a gift to read your words, always; and I must note the pop of delight I felt reading your words on adding a little hot water from the pit to “lengthen the sauce”. Exactly!
Thanks Nancie!!!
I love Nancy's writing, always so vigorous and clear. Her Substack is terrific
I also enjoy having a full sense of the structural necessities in a recipe.