Back in June, I went home to Maryland to pay a little visit with my family and friends. I hadn’t been back to the east coast since the holidays, and I was in serious need of some catching up.
“Home,” as a concept, is something I’ve given a lot of thought to lately. I’m still trying to decide what makes a place my home–and whether I can have a handful of them, or if “home,” in its purest sense, is limited to only one locale. In my wandering around the world, I’ve cultivated a sense of refuge in a number of very specific places. And although I’ve lived in Maryland, India, Thailand, Nepal, and now Chicago, IL–in many, many ways, Maryland will always be where I’m from, and where, in some sense, I will always return.
Yep, that's a sign in our yard welcoming me home. My mom is fantastic.
During my visit, I enjoyed Maryland at its best–local beer, crabs laden with Old Bay, snowballs (with marshmallow fluff, of course), ice cream at a favored local shop, ballpark fare, the summer salads I crave when the temperature starts climbing. There were visits with friends and family, lazy afternoons lounging at home, and even camping trips at my old alma mater. And almost everything I did was punctuated by food–and it was all fabulous.
I even got in a bit of cooking. A highlight of my visit, Mom and I made and canned two batches of strawberry jam! My Grandma Christine used to make jellies and jam, and this was the first time we’ve made it since she passed many years ago. Made from berries picked from a local farm (the same farm my family has frequented through the years to pick apples, pumpkins, and cut down our Christmas tree), the jam was really quite simple to make and came out so so good! This was the second time I’ve canned with my mother, and I look forward to the day I get to bring her extra canning equipment home to Chicago. Canning is a lot like baking bread–it seems super intricate and involved (and sure, it does involve a few important steps), but in the end, is totally doable. I think what I like best about it is how much it gets me brainstorming–imagine all the delicious things to preserve! And share! There is nothing better than being able to enjoy your favorite fruits or vegetables long after their growing season has passed.
the soon-to-be fruits of our labor (ha!)
Canning, like all things homemade, is a labor of love, but ultimately ridiculously rewarding. I like that I know precisely what is going into my food, and that my own hands have played a crucial role in bringing it into being. And, as I’ve written about before, I am proud to be learning the skills of the women before me. I recently read a review of a book about “radical homemaking,” (as well as a number of varied responses to it). According the author, “radical homemaking” is the idea that learning the skills our ancestors considered second-nature can now be revolutionary; that rather than depending on mass-produced goods we can instead responsibly provide for our families and communities ourselves. Granted, there is much to be said about privilege and choice, and romanticizing a way of life that, for many, is not optional–as well as what it means when work (and what is recognized as work) is divided along gender lines. I am curious to read the book, and to see whether the author responsibly explores these concerns. Nevertheless, it is an intriguing idea at first blush, and one that I’ve found myself thinking about more and more. It is a concept that I’d like to revisit, and share my reflections on at a later time.
Until then, let me leave it this: forging a relationship with food and cooking has created a stronger connection to my family’s past, and is a reminder to me that I come from strong, hard-working women. For me, learning their recipes, inheriting their tools, and preserving their memory, I feel them close with me. I am able to share in their history. I am home.
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