“One cannot think well, love well, and sleep well if one has not dined well. A lamp in the spine does not light on beef and prunes” proclaimed Virginia Wolff in the essay “A Room of One’s Own.” Usually, when someone in the food movement uses this quote, they begin with “one cannot” and end with “dined well.” Unless one has read her essays and some of the written responses, one will not realize that she was not speaking well of food, but rather she was looking down on the food she was given, as indicated by the second sentence when she essentially says that “beef and prunes” won’t spark your passion. At any rate, that’s my interpretation. I invite you to read the essay and make up your own mind.

This isn’t a critique of Virginia Wolff, but rather that the quote in general, when used in its proper context, seems to indicate that food must be fancy and elaborate to be worth eating. Moroccan Tagine of Lamb (Beef with Prunes) is amazing and sparks my passion. I did some research on the general combination of lamb and prunes, and it seems to be fairly popular. Although, some of the recipes are stews and do not sound nearly as inviting, so who am I to judge Virginia and her taste preferences? I think, however, that usually “simple not fancy” dishes are dearly inviting and not only bring people to the table but instill lasting, comforting memories.

Pinterest and Instagram give the impression that food has to look pretty, entail much work, and include ingredients we can’t readily buy or afford. I enjoy cruising through Instagram for the food photos and often search out recipe inspiration on Pinterest to find a recipe and make it my own. Just like when my mother would walk down the streets of Boston, eyeing couture, then go home, cut a pattern out of newspaper and add touches to make it her own. Most of the time involved, fancy recipes and clothing are for particular occasions. That’s how I think daily cooking should be. To feed our families well, food doesn’t have to be fancy to be delicious and nutritious.

I enjoy cooking and “putting on the dog,” as mom used to say. I love making special meals for the family when they’re home for a visit or for friends stopping in, but for day to day living, I look for simple and easy meals that are flavorful and satisfying. I wonder if “Instagram fancy” has added to the home food preparer’s anxiety, making them feel inadequate if the meals they serve their families are not pleasingly perfect in the eyes of the beholder.

Today I share with you a story that taught me a good lesson about understanding that when food is made with love and intention, those are the winning ingredients. Because I know, we all look at “out of the ordinary” prepared dishes and totally enjoy eating and sharing them with each other, but when it comes right down to it, on a daily basis, those dishes are just not going to happen. And that’s okay.

One night, at the end of a busy day of schooling, soccer practice, and dance lessons, I barely had time to remember my name, never mind remember to think of something for dinner. On this occasion, I was feeling rather like a failure as a parent. I mean, responsible parents have a plan for a balanced dinner figured out for that night before they even get out of bed, right? In truth, I am usually that parent, but being organized is for my own sanity.

This particular night I decided to make corn pancakes for dinner. Mom made corn pancakes when we were on our own because they were cheap and an easy recipe after work and school. I loved them! To me, it was a special treat!  As I put them on the table, I apologized (no judging) for making pancakes for dinner. Let me tell you! They thought they had eaten manna from Heaven! They loved both the pancakes and the idea of pancakes for dinner and couldn’t understand why I felt like I was letting them down.

I had brought my relationship to those pancakes along with me through my life. I’m glad I did because at this moment I am considering that maybe it isn’t entirely Instagram and Pinterest making us feel inadequate, but that it is also our personal food history.

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