Solstice and Sorrow

It’s been a sad couple of weeks. It started when my mom called to inform me that a family friend had died 11 days after being diagnosed with lung cancer. Then Phil Role died after a much longer battle with cancer. And just the other day, my friend Sarah e-mailed me that her young niece had had a skiing accident and wasn’t expected to live.
Needless to say, I’ve been doing my fair share of crying.
The memorial service for Phil was particularly moving. I barely knew him but that didn’t stop me from using plenty of the tissues someone had thoughtfully left on all the chairs. I cried, not only for his family, who must now continue on with a large gap in their life, but for myself and the hole in my life left after my dad died when I was only 20. I cried all the way home from the service. Then I had to hold off calling Sarah for a day to make sure the phone call wouldn’t just be us listening to each other sob.
Aside from shedding tears, I also had an overwhelming desire to feed both the Role family and my friend. What is it about death that makes me want to cook? Why is it that food seems to be the best way for me to express how truly sorry I am and how I wish there was something in my power to make it all better?
I’m not alone in these feelings. Feeding the bereaved has been a part of many cultures and religions since funeral rites began. Each culture has a different take on what food is served when and by whom, but the reasons behind the food are similar.
The poet Jeanne Nall Adams hints at one of the reasons for having food as part of the funeral rites. “Atop the beans he piled the ham/Atop the cake, the pie./Take time to stuff, O mourner./Full stomachs cannot cry”
But it’s not just that it’s harder to cry with your mouth full. Food focuses our thoughts on the needs of the living. People have traveled for miles and are hungry. The bereaved are too disconsolate to think about eating but still need to take in nourishment. And food may help ease the stress-induced fight or flight reaction that grief causes (your brain knows it’s not in danger if it has time to stop and eat).
Food sustains life and often the foods that are served symbolically represents life such as hard boiled eggs, or are circular to represent the circle of life such as the lentils traditional served during Jewish Shiva.
Food brings a community together and gives us something to talk over as we remember the dead.
And of course, food is comforting. Most often, funeral food is synonymous with comfort food. Folks in the southern United States have the comfort thing down and their “repasts” are filled with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and apple pie.
Knowing that bringing food to the bereaved is the right thing to do is easy; deciding what is the most appropriate is a bit harder.
If you are bringing food for the immediate family, simple easy to serve and eat food is best. Soup or sandwiches will do the trick. Casseroles are great to bring to stock their freezer for later when things calm down and they still don’t feel like cooking.
If you are bringing food to share after a funeral service or memorial, then your favorite potluck dish is fine as long as it’s not too fancy. This is not the time to try and compete for the Iron Chef title. Everyone there is going to want comfort food so bring your favorite.
The exception to this rule is if the person whose funeral you are attending was a great lover of food. In that case, it would be in their honor to make something spectacular (please note my request for Thai green curry in the accompanying recipe).
Aside from offering comfort to the family and friends of the departed, making food and producing something nourishing and good helps heal the cook. The act of creation is a soothing balm to a mind filled with loss and sadness.
It turned out that, to date, my cooking impulse served only to sooth me. I wasn’t able to take food to Phil’s memorial (not that anyone noticed, there was enough food there to feed all of Sandpoint) and Sarah left for the East Coast before I could send her a care package. Instead, I baked a batch of cookies, thought about the loved ones I have lost, then shared them with the loved ones I still have.


Thai Green Curry over Coconut Rice
Serves 4
This isn’t your typical funeral fare but I’d like to have it served at my funeral. It’s one of my favorite foods.

3 ½ c. coconut milk (divided)
1 c. jasmine rice
2 T. green curry paste
½ c. chicken broth
3 T. fish sauce
2 T. brown sugar
1 T. sliced ginger
½ medium onion, quartered and sliced
1 red bell pepper, sliced into chunks
1 can bamboo shoots
10 oz. lean beef steak, cut into thin strips
¼ c. chopped fresh basil
¼ c. chopped fresh cilantro
Juice of one lime

In a medium saucepan, bring 2 cups of coconut milk to a boil. Stir in the rice. Lower the heat to a simmer and cover. Cook until the milk is completely absorbed and the rice is done.
Meanwhile, in a large wok, combine the remaining coconut milk, curry paste, chicken broth, fish sauce, brown sugar and ginger. Bring the mixture to a boil then reduce the heat and simmer for 10 minutes. Add the onions, red pepper, and bamboo shoots. Simmer until the vegetables are almost tender. Add the beef and continue simmering until the beef is cook through, about 5 minutes depending on how thick the slices are. Stir in the chopped herbs and remove from heat. Serve curry over the coconut rice.

This is coconut overload and can be enjoyed with plain jasmine rice when not served at my funeral.