I'd like regular ancestral cooking emails!
I’ve always found the phrase ‘comfort food’ difficult. It’s because, as a child, I abused ‘comfort’ food. I turned to sugar to make life seem OK and was an obese teen who weighed 20 stone (280lbs). Comfort food for me then was anything sweet and creamy – think condensed milk (I used to eat it from the can with a spoon).
Despite losing half my body weight between the ages of 20 and 21, and not having had weight issues for many years, that energy hasn’t left me. Occasionally, on bad days, having a little honey, or a square of 90% chocolate feels like the panic-ridden edge of a slope; a slope where I just fall, fall, fall into the oblivion of how I used to be.
But I know that’s an echo and I remember who I am now. I choose to breathe, to create, to look at the hills, to play with my son. And with the space that those moments afford, I see just how damn far I have come. I have sweet and creamy foods regularly and enjoy them. Full stop. I express myself in all the ways I couldn’t even imagine doing when I was that ‘fat’ girl turning to a bag of ‘goodies’. And I’ve found other foods that bring me comfort – it’s not all about sweet/unctuous anymore. Here’s one: Whole spelt grains that I’ve sprouted, cooked and served warm with spoons of peanut butter and a big blob of miso. I mix it all together and watch the colours change. I hold the bowl in my hands and feel it’s warmth. I smell the salt, the peanuts and the grain’s earthy aroma. It’s comforting and beautiful.
Thank you @julskitchen for your comfort food podcast and the musings it brought out of me today.