humanity
Humanity topics include pieces on the real lives of chefs, professionals, amateurs, inspiring youth, influencers, and general feel good human stories in the Feast food sphere.
Tea Queen
Iced, hot, flavored, herbal, black. There are so many ways to make it. There are so many styles. There are so many types to choose from, but I love all of them and know just how they are to be made. I am the Tea Queen. Very few understand this drink the way I do.
By Em Rodriguez5 years ago in Feast
Is it a cliche to say food is love?
Wandering in with my too heavy backpack, carefully taking off and placing my shoes in a well mannered fashion, and scrubbing my 3rd grade adolescent hands were the first two things I would do entering my Korean-American home. Cleanliness was always first. Organization and order were key. Delicious meals cooked with love was the second. Wafting through the air would be aromas of spice, tang, earthiness, and love. My fondest memories always revolved around the kitchen table. The key to my heart was the love my mother poured into her home cooked meals. The meals that friends would make fun of for being strange, different, and foreign. The meals that for the longest time I was embarrassed of. The tart smell of spiced fermented cabbage also known as kimchi, was my favorite when fried with fluffy jasmine rice, artfully scrambled eggs, the salty goodness of canned SPAM, and the delicate trace of sesame oil. I would stare with longing for my mother to finish from the dining table while I worked on my Math and English homework. The steam and smoke with fill the air and my stomach would churn knowing in 10 minutes my every craving and desire as a child was about to be fulfilled.
By Lisa DeRisi5 years ago in Feast
The Party Lasagna Chronicles
I've made approximately four lasagnas in my life that I can recall: one for Thanksgiving, one just because, and two to take to a college party. Think: your friend's apartment full of people you work and go to school with, craft beer bottles on every available surface (because you're all millennials), vodka bottles the size of Stanley Cups, Ring Of Fire, etc, etc. Your typical party for anyone ages 21 to 25, and I brought two lasagnas instead of, say, a bag of chips.
By lauren boisvert5 years ago in Feast
Grandad's signature sandwich
When I think of my grandad, I think of his thick, dark hair and his big, square glasses. I think of his voice as he'd say the word 'broccoli' with extra emphasis on the 'i', like 'broccoleye'. And I think of how that would drive me mad as I got older. Then I think of how he spilled tea on his shirt when he came to visit, and taught me how to solder circuits, and sat patiently with me as we flipped through pages of his old atlases.
By Mike Houldsworth5 years ago in Feast
Tuna, Peas and Cheese
My recipe is pretty simple--tuna, peas and cheese. But the memories, stories and feelings it invokes are what make it priceless to my family and myself. My mom was the chef of the house for my family of five--mom and dad, two older sisters, and myself. She made countless delicious meals for us each night and always had breakfast prepared for my sisters and I before school. They weren't gourmet meals by any means, but they were comforting and delicious. Cooked with love. Mom was sick the entire eight years of my life that I knew her and two years beyond that as well. So most of her meals were pretty healthy and restricted ingredient wise. Nevertheless, I don't remember a single meal of hers I didn't like (and I was a very picky eater as a child). And then the disease took her and my family of five became four.
By Eva Pearce6 years ago in Feast
A Meal That Made Poverty Seem Wealthy
I grew up poor. I was never homeless or without bare essentials, but I understood my family had less than others. My clothes came from thrift stores or second hand from friends and family. We sometimes had to trade in our TV for electricity, and a lot of the times, lunch consisted of saltine crackers with sliced American cheese.
By Ashlyn Harper6 years ago in Feast
Food for the Soul
Growing up I’ve always felt like an orphan. I knew who my parents were, however, they were not around to raise me. I was fortunate to have my grandmother, Madea (short for Mother Dear). Madea carried a silent strength. She never raised her voice, but you knew when she meant business and when she cooked, he was about her business.
By NaTyshca Pickett6 years ago in Feast
Food for my soul
I have never been a cook, in fact I've never striven to become one either. The whole ordeal exhausts me even thinking about it. Some things will never change. When I was young one of the biggest things my parents wanted to teach me were cooking, learning Chinese and grow up to have my own family. It looks like I failed at all three of the basic wishes of my parents. Still there's something about cooking rice that brings me back to the good old days.
By Brian Anonymous6 years ago in Feast
Eat In With M
There’s nothing to do. I am getting bored after playing a lot of scrabble or solitaire. I glanced out my window...... The weather seemed welcoming: Hot Sun, noonday rain and a cool breeze. I hesitated to leave home. People began to walk past your house when you decide maybe to take a scroll. I usually jog down to the corner store. Italian food is a favorite.
By Pearl Thomas6 years ago in Feast
Cathy’s place
What did I just do! Ever since I was little I wanted to own a restaurant. I used to spend hours in my grandmothers kitchen making cakes and cookies, narrating like I was on the cooking channel. I am sure I must have given my family a lot of laughs, but they always encouraged me and my love for all things food. As I grew into my teenage years I did that thing all kids do, I stopped pursuing my uncool hobbies to better fit in with the popular kids. Always complaining when I was forced to help bake cookies for Christmas but secretly glad to have the excuse. I think it hurt my grandma a little when I pulled away from cooking, it was what we bonded over when I was little and watching me deny it felt like I was denying her. I stayed that way, in a holding pattern, for a long time. Until my life tumbled upside down and I finally got the push I needed to move away from my oppressive hometown. It was hard for a few years, working long hours for poor pay, learning what freeway traffic really was, trying to deal with the fallout of old relationships and the struggle of a new city. That really took me away from cooking, it took me away from everything. I was sad and angry and scared. We were so broke we had a roommate in our one bedroom apartment and we spent 9 months without a table or chairs. All of my passions fell off the radar of life for several years, until finally we started to learn how to manage our new life. We got new jobs, a better house, and some furniture. We had time again, and energy to take care of our souls. It started slowly for me, making old recipes from home, a comfort meal here, a batch of cookies there. Things to make the house smell good, flavors that brought me joy. I didn’t experiment much in the early days, just cooking what I knew would be delicious. As we found our footing and worked our way into our dreams I got bolder. Adding my own ingredients to my grandmother’s spaghetti recipes, tasting things I was scared of, using Christmas as a time to experiment on my friends. I never really thought it would go any deeper than that, I figured cooking would always be where I found my peace, something I would pass on to my kids and grandkids, to add a little joy into the world. Then the world spiraled.
By Clementine Brown6 years ago in Feast
