Food for Thought

It’s now seven days until I leave for Norway and I’m thinking about food. Living on campus for part of this summer, having my own apartment (with a kitchen!), and being responsible for my own meals has made me look at food differently. I’ve always really liked food. I enjoy cooking with my mom, I like sitting down at a table and eating with my family — I just really like food. Food was a central part of my childhood; my parents never had any problem inviting people over for dinner, bringing meals to those in need, or swapping favorite recipes with those around us. Rather than buying overly processed foods, my mom makes her own soups, spaghetti sauce, baked goods, and desserts. My dad makes the best from-scratch hamburgers I’ve ever eaten. It’s important to my family to have set times where we know we’ll be sitting down and eating a full meal together. The process of cooking food and bringing meals to the table has always been equated to love. Food brings people together and one of the ways we show our love for others is through food.

Feeding myself has reminded me how important food really is. More than showing love for others through the act of cooking or giving food, eating good food is a way to love yourself. The past month and a half have shown me just how critical it is to love yourself. Other people may come and go in your life, but you must always love, value, and respect yourself. No one can do that for you. Eating food that fills, comforts, and nourishes you is one way to love your body. Your body is something that you’re stuck with for your whole life, so you might as well treat it the right way. Give it the fuel it needs in order to get through the day. Give it the food that you love when you are in need of comfort. And give it the healthy food that will help you be the strongest “you” that you can be.

But that’s enough, for now, about loving yourself.

When I have traveled abroad in the past, it has been in a class setting. I’ve had professors telling me what to expect when we get there, for everything from what the hotel will be like, to what parts of the city we should see, to what museums we will be visiting. When we’ve reached our destination, I’ve made it a point to try as many “native” foods as possible, whether I like them or not. In London, this meant eating fish and chips, despite the fact that I really don’t like breaded, fried fish. In Paris, I savored fresh crepes and choked down steak tartare (a memory my parents still tease me about and they weren’t even there). In Puerto Rico (though it’s not exactly “abroad”), I lived off of rice, chicken, and plantains. In Serbia, I ate as much palacinke, pljeskavica, and kajmak as humanly possible. But in Norway, I don’t know quite what to expect. I don’t really feel unprepared (it’s impossible to feel unprepared when you travel with my dad, the king of travel itineraries), but it’s a very different kind of preparation from the May Term traveling I’ve done. I know what we’re doing, but not what to expect. Recently, my thoughts about what to expect have shifted to what foods to expect and what foods I’m going to try. I’m really curious about what foods we’ll get to eat at our family reunion, since I know relatively little about the food in Norway. Traditional Norwegian foods like kringla and lefse were a staple of my childhood (kringla more so than lefse, since it’s ridiculously difficult to make your own lefse) but I’m excited that I get to experience these foods the way they’re meant to be experienced. (Sorry Mom: your kringla’s good, but I’m ready to try it the real Norwegian way.) In seven days, I’m going to get off that plane and hunt down some lefse.  It’s going to be awesome.