My grandfather was a man who cherished every morsel; he ate slowly and with purpose. As a child, I remember he was always the last to finish—and we did not leave the table until he was done.
The midday meal was the most substantial and reverently honored. We sat and let him have the last indulgence. Comprised of garden vegetables, fresh or preserved, small animals, chickens, roots and bitter greens, my grandparents harvested and fermented many things.
Since sheltering in place, I have been examining how I eat and remembering the ways of my grandfather and wonder…
Do I eat to live, or do I live to eat? Continue reading “How I Learned to Eat to Live”
