The traditions, rituals, and memory-making of comfort food, the edible equivalent of a security blanket— soothing and delightfully childlike. Often bland, soft, creamy, warm, meltingly sweet, or even mushy, comfort food can calm and console before taking a single bite.
If you’re a bit blue or under the weather, complex flavors that ordinarily delight may not be just what you need. A dollop of mashed potatoes or a bowl of noodle soup might do your spirit more good than any spicy delicacy seasoned with cilantro, garlic, or jalapeño peppers.
And let’s be perfectly clear—food as a comfort is not the same as food as a fix. Downing an entire bag of oily, salty chips or box of cookies doesn’t equal the conscious savoring of “nursery foods” that trigger nostalgic connections to special people and simpler times. Comfort food is a respite, not a compulsion.
“A long time ago it occurred to me that when people are tired and hungry, which in adult life is much of the time, they do not want to be confronted by an intellectually challenging meal: they want to be consoled. When life is hard and the day has been long, the ideal dinner is not four perfect courses . . . but rather something comforting and savory, easy on the digestion—something that makes one feel, if even for only a minute, that one is safe.” (Laurie Colwin, Home Cooking)
While the all-American definition of comfort food is fairly universal (macaroni and cheese; rice pudding; soups and stews; cookies, brownies, and pies; fresh muffins and biscuits; mashed potatoes, pot pie, stuffing, and other “grandma” food), in reality it’s quirkier, more personal, and reflects one’s ethnic roots.
For my family, it has been such a gift to go from vegetarian to vegan and find that there’s almost no food that can’t be made completely plant-based.
“It seems to me that our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so entwined that we cannot think of one without the other.” (M.F.K. Fisher)
Vegan Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Cookies
Comfort food memories and nostalgia
Creamy or noodle-filled soups, homemade macaroni and cheese, and our repertoire of wholesome baked goods are among the comforts I’ve seen follow my kids into adulthood.
I hope they’ll also remember sitting on high stools in the kitchen helping to stir batters, the scent of chocolate coming from the oven, and reading something fun aloud as they enjoyed freshly baked brownies or cookies.
The stories gathered here demonstrate how memory and senses become entwined, conjuring up the comfort foods that become part of our family history. The cozy food memories are most always connected with a special person (usually a parent or grandmother), and often, a ritual connected with the making or eating of the food.
- While growing up, Gita’s parents regularly made idli (steamed rice cakes, eaten plain or with butter and sugar) for her. A traditional Indian comfort food served for soothing major ailments and minor maladies, idli are also a cherished Sunday breakfast treat, much as pancakes are in Western kitchens.
Gita now makes idli for her young daughter, who enthusiastically eats them out of hand. Making them is no small project; they even require special cooking equipment. But, Gita says, idli evoke such comforting memories that making them for her daughter “is just one of those things that, busy as I am, I’ve chosen to do anyway.”
- Proving that personal notions of comfort food are unique, two sisters, Robin and Leah, grew up in the same house and ate the same bland Eastern European Jewish food. Robin never liked it, and today, as a raw food enthusiast, politely rebuffs her mother’s cajoling.For Leah, on the other hand, returning home to matzo ball soup, sweet potato tzimmes, and noodle kugel (which she does about once a month) makes her feel as well cared for as when she was young and her biggest worry was which jumper to wear to school. “I never cook this way at home,” says Robin, who favors salads and rice dishes, “but it’s not just the food. It’s about how in Mom’s world, so little has changed—the rosebud wallpaper in the dining room, the doilies on the end tables, the aromas, and the friendly nagging to eat a just a little more when I’m ready to burst. It’s a welcome relief from my stressful job.”
- Karen loved visiting her Norwegian grandparents for Christmas in the Midwest as a child. Her grandmother always baked kringlas—a traditional pastry formed into a sort of figure eight, which Karen would wash down with cinnamon-scented hot cocoa. These were served with a special plate and cup set that were just for Karen’s use when she came to visit. “They had bunnies around the rim—or were they kitties?” she mused.
Though the recollection has grown fuzzy, she acknowledges that the plate and cup were crucial to the ritual. For fifteen years now, Karen has baked several batches of kringlas during the holiday season to give as hostess gifts and to serve to guests. No bunny or kitty dishes are involved, but she does use her grandmother’s original recipe.
Quick Jamaican Rice and Peas (Red Beans)
- Olive learned to cook the old-fashioned way—at her mother’s side, on the family farm near Montego Bay, Jamaica. Her mother grew everything the family needed for sustenance, from tangerines, bananas, coconuts, plantains, and avocados to coffee and cocoa beans. Each day, food was freshly picked and prepared. “On Sundays,” she recalled, “we made ‘rice and peas,’ just like every family on the island does.”
The tasty national dish of Jamaica is made with rice, small dried red beans, a whole fresh coconut, and lots of onions and garlic. After Olive moved to the United States, she so missed her home that she continues to make a big pot of rice and peas each Sunday, giving away portions of it to anyone who comes her way or whom she might be visiting. Doing so, she says, keeps her connected to Jamaican cooking rituals, as well as to the memories of her long-departed mother and her kitchen.
Breakfast comfort
Special breakfast traditions are rarely a lot of work, since they often revolve around just one food. Pancakes, waffles, biscuits, bagels, and fresh muffins seem tailor-made for enjoying in one’s pajamas, reading the morning paper. A breakfast ritual can be the perfect antidote to the weekday morning “rush hour” or a special treat on weekends.
- Sunday mornings find Carla’s family around the table with a special breakfast that’s not large or elaborate, but different from what they have during the week: “When we were on sabbatical in Cambridge for a year, I made what we call scones, not really English scones, but a kind of cinnamon biscuit, slightly sweet. At home, Jonathan makes waffles. We often have some fruit and tea, or coffee and juice. We all look forward to this simple Sunday morning meal—it’s a nice way to start the week.”
- Mary, who has two older school-age children, initiated a ritual that she calls “Thursday pancake day.” When Mary was growing up, her mother made pancakes every Friday morning. She has always treasured a vivid recollection of how much fun it was, so she started to do the same for her kids. They, too, love it, but asked that she switch the day to Thursday, their hardest day at school. The pancake ritual gives them comforting sustenance for the day ahead.
- Gail grew up in a small southern town in the 1950s, where hers was the only Jewish family. Bagels and grits for breakfast became the odd yet apt metaphor for -preserving cultural identity while trying to fit in. When I asked her if she still eats bagels and grits, she said that this particular combination was strictly of that time and place. Grits are still a top choice for comfort, though. She serves grits and eggs or cheese grits to her family for breakfast on a regular basis.
Our daily bread
Bread is the original comfort food. Few experiences offer more pleasure than the earthy flavors and yeasty aromas of freshly baked bread. Every culture has a characteristic bread, little changed for generations, that’s completely ingrained in daily life as well as cultural and religious rituals. Think of Middle Eastern pita bread; Indian naan, puri, and chapatis; Jewish challah; Mexican tortillas.
In the couple of decades, gluten-free trends aside, there’s a been a surge of interest in artisanal bread baking, utilizing traditional European methods, wood-fired ovens, and robust whole grains.
Baking bread at home can be a pleasurable ritual for those who are attracted to its earthy, tactile pleasures. It offers a hands-on way to center oneself, and can be a productive way to enjoy quiet time. Because it engages the senses and requires repetitive movement and some precision, many people who bake bread for pleasure find the process quite meditative.
When Martina received a bread machine from a couple of friends for her fortieth birthday, she thanked them kindly and exchanged it for a slow cooker. For her, the process of baking bread is just as important as the result. Without being involved in the rhythm of kneading, the feel of the dough, and the yeasty scents, she feels she may as well buy bread from the bakery in town.
Though Martina has two young daughters, her baking ritual helps her claim quiet time that’s for herself alone. Since her family almost always spends Friday evenings at home, after dinner, her husband plays board games and reads with the girls. That’s their special time with Dad, and Martina’s special time to make dough for two large loaves of bread. She takes her time kneading two different batches of dough, finding the process relaxing and meditative; then she sets them in a barely warm oven to rise overnight.
Saturday mornings find Martina up very early. The dough is punched down and shaped into loaves, then she goes out for a run for the duration of the second rising. Once home, the bread is popped into the oven, and the rest of the family wakes to the smell of fresh bread, which is savored throughout the weekend. If any bread is left, it becomes part of Monday night’s dinner, served with a soup or stew in her useful slow cooker.
“Bread makes itself, by your kindness, with your help, with imagination running through you, with dough under hand, you are bread making itself, which is why bread making is so fulfilling and rewarding.” (Edward Espe Brown, The Tassajara Bread Book)
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