A Moroccan Culinary Adventure

One of the really good things about this class is that it is pushing me to consider how I am navigating grad school.  An important part of this semester is centering around my personal exploration of how to live a healthy life as a grad student (and future academic), learning to balance all the things that are important to my mental, intellectual, spiritual, physical, and emotional health. Part of this is learning to establish routines that allow space for concentrated times of scholarly work, times for relational and spiritual pursuits, times of rest, and times of joyous playful activity. These categories are by no means exclusive of one another. Like one crazy big Venn diagram, there are things that they have in common, and things that are particular to each. What I am learning is how to negotiate space and time for each, how to embrace the intersections between them, and even how to recognize those intersections. I can’t remember who in our class said it, but one person said something about not necessarily needing to play more, but needing to recognize moments of play in her life, and embrace them. What I am realizing is that I also need to resist creating dichotomies between work, other obligations, and what I choose to define as play.  I too, need to recognize and enjoy moments of play that are found in work and other responsibilities, and through cooking this week, that’s exactly what I did.

 I see foods and cooking as windows into culture, whether that is the narrower definition of a family’s culture, or the wider definitions of a people group, historical time and place, or nation. I totally geek out on how food  and all the things associated with its growth, preparation, and eating can give us a deeper understanding of cultures and history, as well as complex social issues such as nationalism, environmental degradation, and transnational power structures. At home, I have over 100 cookbooks, many of which are focused on historical time periods, and many more focused on the food culture of specific people groups or regions. I love to just sit and read them. I have learned so much about different places and time periods simply through reading well written cookbooks.  In fact, I read them a lot more than I ever cook out of them! Nevertheless, I enjoy cooking, but I do so quite rarely these days. I distinguish cooking from the utilitarian action of throwing something in the microwave or on the stove top to make quickly and simply just to nourish my body. Cooking is so much more- an art, an alchemy where the cook uses his or her creativity, skill and tools to bring disparate ingredients together to make something new that is greater than simply its parts. It’s a chance to connect with one’s own cultural history, or learn another’s, to appreciate the people who have grown or produced the ingredients, and to use one’s aesthetic sense to produce and present a meal that is pleasing to multiple senses. Also, cooking food for others can be an expression of care and regard for them. You can enjoy creating a meal that gives another person great pleasure or comfort, or makes them feel valued because you took the time to make them something special, particularly when they know you don’t have much time to spare.

Chicken tagine with preserved lemon and olives

So Monday, I decided to step back from the speedy stovetop and indulge in more serious culinary pursuits by making a tagine (rather like a rich, thick stew) from Moroccan food culture. A friend of mine had gifted me with the conical shaped cookware from Morocco (also called a tagine), and I have wanted to make her something in it ever since. The thing is, Moroccan food is a complexly spiced cuisine, where it is not uncommon to have 5-10 flavor combinations going on. One spice mix, ras-al-hanout, can have a dozen or more different herbs and spices in it. All that to say, it takes some preparation for the average Western cook like me to make; you generally don’t just have some of those spices in your cupboard. I had already made preserved lemons in advance, and had been collecting the various spices in anticipation of this day, so I only had a couple of ingredients to round up-thank goodness for Sahara Mart! Equipped with the 15+ ingredients, I cut and chopped and mixed and sautéed and simmered until a rich, deeply flavored chicken tagine was ready to be served, along with couscous, and roasted asparagus, a dish I had never made before. The result, thankfully, was a tasty North African inspired meal, accompanied by good conversation and enjoyment of both food and each other’s company.


So, where would this activity go on my crazy big Venn diagram? I enjoyed gathering the ingredients, putting them together and seeing them become something new. I enjoyed taking the time to make a “real” meal, with “real” food, and serving it on “real” dishes. I loved connecting with another culture through their foodways. I loved making food for my friend. Yet there was the utilitarian side of this event, and there was also the cleaning up. In the end, for me, this time cooking was neither defined by work nor play. While it retained its primary purpose to nourish the body, it also transcended it.  And in this messy intersection of pleasurable creativity and utilitarianism, my “playtime” once again pushed against the idea of play and work being wholly separate, and for me, defining something as one or the other. This week, I was able to see play in my work, and work in my play, which is totally ok, and may somehow open up space to enjoy both work and play more. I think I need to stop bounding activities so strictly with the ideas of work ethic mentioned in the discussion on the rhetorics of Frivolity. If I can see some of my work as play, better for me….and maybe better for finding pleasure in other tasks throughout my day. Maybe I’ll even cook more. The only thing is… who’s going to do the dishes?