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.
Food Eaten as it Should Be; With Love
Food and I have a complex history. I didn’t like most foods as a child. I mean sure, kids are picky, but I had unaddressed sensory issues making most food textures hell for me. While I learned as an adult how to cook for my own needs, I spent most of my youth struggling to eat home-cooked food. For those first 18 years, I feel like I lived largely off of premade meals and fast food that had their textures and flavours processed away to nothing. This made food contentious in my family, and gave me an altogether unhealthy attitude towards eating.
By Jennifer Black5 years ago in Feast
THE BIG QUESTION IS WHATS FOR DINNER?
I have asked this question when I was growing up. My mom must have heard me say this a lot! Usually, it is up to the woman to figure out what she will cook for dinner! It can get really hard to think of different recipes to cook each night. But that can all change if you have a plan. Meal planning should not be hard it might take a little time to do but in the end, it is worth doing. The best way to do this especially if you work 9-5, is to have a notebook. Put one column for the date, and the day of the week. The next column would be the name of the meal; for example, Spaghetti and meatballs The next column write down the ingredients for the meal that are needed. If you have to buy an item then write the item on the grocery list. By doing this simple task now you have a plan. You have a plan of what recipes you want to make and a separate list to buy an item. Do this for all seven days of the week.
By rose m lewis5 years ago in Feast
Lancashire Hotpot
Our Family Recipe – Lancashire Hotpot I am sharing a recipe that means a lot to me. It reminds me of chilly nights with the onset of winter. It reminds me of running home after school, my legs red with the cold and my long hair, blowing over my face. Shouting to my friend running on the other side of the road. She reaches her house first, as she lives near the top of the hill, whereas I live at the bottom of the hill. I shout goodbye, waving furiously.
By Kaarina Vanderkamp5 years ago in Feast
From the Heart
My great-grandparents were the epitome of hard work and dedication. My great-grandfather (Papa) was a perfect example of what was considered a family man, and he and my great grandmother grew up in small town USA. They grew up in a farming community and working odd jobs to make ends meet. They married young, but due to some health issues, they were “older” by the standards of the time, before they had my grandmother. When my grandmother was growing up, he would do odd jobs (ranging from truck driver to farming to working at a feed/seed shop). Details are fuzzy, but I recall being told that my great grandmother (Granny) would work over night at a factory, get home in time to get my grandmother off to school, my great grandfather off to work and would sleep while everyone else was at work/school. She would get up from her nap in time to start the process of dinner, run errands, etc. They learned early on to work hard for everything they needed and wanted in life, and to make sure their family had everything they could want and need within reason.
By Lauren Armstrong5 years ago in Feast
How Urban farms in Schools are Raising food to Fight Inequality
It's the kind of involvement expected at a top of the line eatery: Diners look at produce developing in an aqua-farming nursery close to the kitchen. Behind plexiglass, spices are deliberately culled fully expecting being added to each plate.
By Muhammad Ahmed5 years ago in Feast
There's just something about Pizza...
There's something about Pizza which is universally true for all of us. And that is, Pizza, in its doughy, delectable, delight; topped with, savory basil and tomato, pesto, or cream sauce, in limitless, meat, veggie or seafood, options is everyone's favorite, comfort food. Mmm!
By ©I.M. "That Girl," Inure Muse5 years ago in Feast
Veg. Manchurian:
The year 2000: Somewhere in the city of Ahmedabad in Gujarat, India lived an 8-year-old girl, M with her family. Her family and M had a ritual to try different street foods for dinner every Sunday. On one pleasant Sunday evening, M and her family went out for their usual Sunday dinner.
By Mehrie H Patel5 years ago in Feast
Not The Way Grandma Used To Make It...
The first time I sold the World's Best Fudge at our local suburban market, I severely underestimated the power it had to change lives. Selling and marketing has never been my strong point, so I merely stuffed my product in some very ordinary brown-paper lunch-bags, and used my daughter's fairy stamp to mark them. Always a fan of alliteration, and for lack of a better brand-name, I dubbed myself the “Fudge Fairy”(I think I might have even worn a patched pair of kid's fairy wings so I looked the part), and then meekly sat in a chair behind my stall table, smiling weakly at passers-by. Needless to say, fudge sales were rather meagre that day.
By Kate Jenkins5 years ago in Feast
Love of Pie
Summers of my youth meant week long vacations at my grandmother’s house. On her farm, we would roam with an overprotective German Shepherd. His soft fur and doggy smell were comforting and warm. We ate Italian ice for lunch and swam all afternoon until my grandfather grilled our dinner. My grandmother’s garden was full of flavors of the earth; oregano, rosemary, and dill. Her tomatoes tasted like sunshine and the sauce she made from them was fire itself. I learned to appreciate the earth and what it gave to us, from her. Not only were the flavors produced in her kitchen exceptional, but the experiences were burned into my memory. The one dish that stands out in my mind was her rhubarb pie.
By Ann Ringle5 years ago in Feast
Have you forgotten the joy of food?
When did the food we eat become boring, stressful and tiresome? My earliest memories of eating take place at my grandparents’ house. Grampy’s speciality was eggs, toast cut into strips, served with a side of peas. To my childish delight and confusion, these strips of toast were called 'soldiers'. I remember him sitting next to me, telling me to eat the peas one at a time because they were too hot. To me, his word was gospel and for years I obediently impaled my peas individually - much to my parents’ despair, as they would impatiently wait for me to finish my meals.
By Alissa Mann5 years ago in Feast
