Eat to Love

Oftentimes the question is asked, do we “Live to eat, or eat to live?”  But I think the more relevant way to pose the question should be do we “Love to eat, or eat to love?”  Loving to eat is a natural human response to a pleasurable experience, one that has been designed by God to elevate a necessary task from mere drudgery to a happy pursuit of sustenance.  Yet, like any good thing, it can be taken to extremes and sadly becomes an obsession, even an addiction that leads to gluttony, as can be readily observed in our daily lives as we mingle with men and women whose corpulence attests to their overindulgence.  Then there are those who simply eat to live, carefully calculating the nutritional value of the food they consume, checking the meal off of their long laundry list of things that must be done so that they can get on about the business of their urgent lives.  Neither one of these approaches addresses the real nature of our relationship with the gift of food.

Like all good gifts our meals are lovingly provided for us from above.  We unite with our Creator and become his human instruments when we take the raw elements into our kitchens and produce something that did not exist before.  Where once were only flour, eggs, milk and sugar now stands cake.  And it is good, very good.

One of the first things I baked for my husband was Zwetschgen-Kuchen, a plum cake.  He was of German descent, a first generation American, and a lover of all things German.  He had traveled to Germany frequently on business, and early on in our courtship he mentioned to me that his favorite dessert to get while there was Plum Kuchen.  Unbeknownst to him, this was a recipe I had been making for years, so as a surprise I made him one.  I think that was the moment he fell in love with me, or so it seemed, for he kissed me and said, “Where have you been all my life?”

Cooking is an act of love, the giving of our time and talent for the sake of  others.   More importantly, its by-product gives us the strength we need to keep on loving in the various ways which present themselves as we walk along.  Life can sometimes be fraught with difficulty, and the road is long.  How refreshing it is to commune with others and renew ourselves around a repast prepared with, and shared with love.  The truth of this was all too keenly brought to bear at the passing of my husband three years ago.*  Suddenly, I found myself alone.  Our children were grown and on their own, and the joy that I had known stirring the contents of pots and pans was gone with him.  I became one of those poor souls who merely ate to live, one painful moment after another.

I lost quite a bit of weight that first year.  Food, the sound of the knife against the cutting board while chopping vegetables, the smell of supper simmering, were all filled with memories of lost love.  Eating became a chore, so I bought a juicer.  It answered my basic need for nutrients and the juice required little preparation, meals could be made quickly and didn’t have to be chewed, which felt like work.  During this time, one of my brothers sent me an email, in it he had copied a poem written by David Whyte called, Everything Is Waiting For You, the last stanza of which especially spoke to me.  It goes like this:

Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the conversation.  The kettle is singing even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots have left their arrogant aloofness and seen the good in you at last.  All the birds and creatures of the world are unutterably themselves.

Everything is waiting for you.

And so it is… and it is good, very good.

PLUM KUCHEN (ZWETSCHGEN-KUCHEN)

2 cups plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1 cup granulated sugar

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/8 teaspoon salt

¾ cup chilled butter, cut in small pieces

1 egg

2 tablespoons lemon juice

1 teaspoon grated fresh lemon peel

2 pounds prune plums, cut in 4 wedges each

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Softly whipped cream (optional, but preferred)

To make the crust, mix 2 cups flour, ¾ cup sugar, baking powder and salt in a medium-sized bowl.  Cut in butter until it resembles coarse crumbs.  Beat egg with lemon juice and peel;  add to flour mixture.  Mix quickly with fingers to form smooth dough.  Press dough in bottom and 1 inch up sides of a 9-inch springform pan.  Arrange plums on crust in a single, slightly overlapping layer, skin side up.  Mix remaining ¼ cup sugar, 2 tablespoons flour and cinnamon; sprinkle over plums.  Shake pan a bit to let sugar sink in around the plums.  Cover edges of crust with foil.  Bake on middle rack of a pre-heated 400 degree oven for 40 minutes or until juice is bubbling.  Cool in pan 15 minutes.  Remove pan sides.  Serve warm or at room temperature with a dollop of whipped cream.

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Editor’s Note

*Originally published in 2013. Jennifer became a widow in 2009.