historians
Cooking the Past
in the time of COVID-19
COVID-19 has brought so many of us into a new sort of relationship--fraught or otherwise--with cooking and food. We've been thinking a lot about how others have faced public and personal catastrophes, distance (social and otherwise), as well as scarcity and all of the anxieties that come with these experiences. We are struck by the way the coronavirus brings us together as a global community even as it separates us into the smallest iteration of "family" units. At the same time, we have found ourselves cooking and looking to the past for comfort, models, and inspiration to move forward.
In this vein, we have asked oral and public historians, as well as storytellers throughout the world, to share a food memory and a recipe that reflects on this pandemic. By "cooking the past," we mean two things. First, we are dedicated to exploring our own compulsion to draw on familiar recipes in these troubled times. Also, "cooking," as in "playing with" or "altering," speaks to our creative efforts to both rethink and reframe our own engagements with stories of loss, community, family, and food heritages. While some posts will be nostalgic, paying homage to a simpler time, others offer an edgy perspective on the politics of this moment and how it may be viewed as an important break with the past. If re-envisioning how we address homelessness, food insecurity, healthcare, education, and other social issues moving forward, through story and food memories, meant not including a recipe, our framework remained completely flexible.
Think of this as one of those old school, wire-bound community cookbooks that’s now gone digital. If you have tried any of the recipes featured here, please take a moment to head into "the kitchen" and share images and stories with us!
There’s no better time to do what we do: tell stories!
The kitchen is closed
July 31, 2020
Stacey Zembrzycki, with Margo Shea, Cassandra Marsillo, and Erin Jessee
The idea for Historians Cooking the Past was born in my [Stacey’s] kitchen, as I hovered over my dining room table looking for a traditional cinnamon bun recipe that would be comparable to the one my late maternal grandmother used to make when I was young. Funny enough, I was a picky eater and never ate those buns but everyone around me did and her home always smelt divine. I guess I was searching for familiarity and comfort in March, as we all locked into quarantine mode and made the best of what was an incredibly anxious and scary time. I wondered how others were coping, and given that everyone was cooking from home, what their experiences could offer in terms of moving forward, day by day, meal by meal.
As someone who has spent nearly twenty years listening to people’s diverse stories, I’ve always been moved by the amount of knowledge and understanding that they offer, and particularly the ways in which we, as humans, struggle, cope, and somehow always manage to navigate difficult times.
condolence Cake
July 29, 2020
Stacey Zembrzycki
I can still see this golden carrot cake sitting on Baba’s table, wrapped in layers of cling wrap on a white Corelle plate with its gold butterfly edging. Taken from an article published in the Sudbury Star during the 1950s, it is lovely and light as well as warm and spicy, a near perfect pairing for a late afternoon cup of tea. Despite its delectable flavor, Baba never baked this cake for holidays or special occasions. It only made an appearance for funerals, delivered to dear friends as comfort when they had lost a loved one. It’s always been Baba’s way of offering her condolences in difficult times.
In fact, I remember this cake being there when my grandfather, my Gigi, died, a man who lived a life I knew little about but witnessed him drink away, one pint of Labatts at a time. Sadly, he never managed to come to terms with what he witnessed as a Polish soldier who fought valiantly in the Second World War.
Signing Off Amid Continued COVID Uncertainty
July 27, 2020
Erin Jessee, Cassandra Marsillo, Margo Shea, and Stacey Zembrzycki
During one of our Zoom meetings, as we planned the schedule of posts for the coming week and found comfort in each other’s presence talking about food, work, and the current moment, Erin pulled out a ball of dough. We laughed as we watched her pound it out, understanding that under the comical nature of it all, was bubbling frustration, boiling over. For all of us. We know you don’t need a laundry list of what those frustrations might have been, because you all have been living it as well.
In that moment, we knew that we wanted to join her. We knew that there would be power in seeing the four of us, each in our little Zoom squares, pounding away at the same time, venting, laughing, and baking. We knew that this could be a virtual space of solidarity, and we wanted to invite you, our readers and collaborators, into both our literal and figurative kitchens. We planned to organize an interactive event, which was in line with community and mutual aid traditions, so as to enable interaction between our blog’s purpose and the current, pressing moment.
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