The Pandemic Pantry
The Pandemic Kitchen
Those of you that know me, know that I often talk about ‘sacred spaces’. These ‘spaces’ can be in churchyards, or hanging off the trapeze on the side of my catamaran. They are places I like to dawdle and feel and be present and take my time. Sacred spaces are, somehow, relieved of the constraints of time. There’s no rush to finish or get out of a sacred space. As I’ve enjoyed with butterblogger, a sacred space is a place where you can just be.
I was talking to my friend Chris. He said something that stuck with me. ‘Sacred is ordinary, we find sacred in the ordinary’.
It was a tough morning. Winston Kitty was feeling his loss, he has a most expressive face and i don’t recall ever seeing a cat cry before. Cats are usually stoic. I had my moments today too, just an hour ago when I gave Winston his dinner. 1/2 can – we’re back to putting the other half in a little ziplock in the fridge. I haven’t done fractions of cans of cat food with fridge storage to the next meal in…… a long time.
While Winston ate alone upstairs in his safe space, I came downstairs and made my self the last of the last batch of chicken soup (that i make from scratch). Making chicken soup is somewhat ordinary for me. I make a gallon at a time, then use the broth to make a variety of other things. Pan sauces, avgalemeno soup, and my favorite, chinese vegetable egg drop soup – which is how this gallon finished.
This was the batch that Velcro had .5 milliliters out of a syringe as his last meal. I carved some aged Regianno Parmigiano over it. I took twenty minutes to savor the bowl, alone and in the quiet. I was present with each spoonful. It was delicious. The time, eating this bowl of soup was sacred space. It nourished my soul and this batch is now gone.
This was my usual, ordinary chicken soup.
Maybe that’s what I’ll call it from now on.