The Kitchen is Closed

July 31, 2020

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. Depression-era narratives about the loss of employment, poor mental health, an inability to pay for basic necessities, and a general shift in experience, have impacted me deeply and I wondered if my peers could offer similar insights into the moment in which we were living, adding their voices, experiences, and storytelling abilities to the conversation. Furthermore, historians rarely reach the masses, and so I wanted to create a space where we could all sort of let our guards down and write for the public, leaving the footnotes, deep engagements with the literature, and the professional boundaries that put up barriers between us and those outside the academy behind.

And, the call resonated! Margo Shea, who was already cooking and thinking deeply about the moment, and Cassandra Marsillo, who has been working hard to find ways to make history publicly accessible in creative ways, jumped on board right away. Kate Preissler, came into and out of the project, when her job, restructured by COVID-19, made participation possible, and Erin Jessee, who has a knack for cooking and searching out tasty food, joined our ranks late in the project to help meet the editorial demands of what would have surely been a full-time job without our team effort. And with their willingness to join ranks, our editorial board was born. Our project went from being an idea to a collaborative adventure into the creative depths of each person’s hearts, minds, and kitchens.

From the beginning, we received an outpouring of submissions that deeply pondered the implications of the pandemic while offering compelling stories and exceptional recipes from around the world. We actually couldn’t keep up at times, and never in our wildest dreams did we ever think that we’d have enough submissions to offer five posts a week for nearly four months. That said, we readily admit that blog contributors have been predominantly white, middle-class, female, and North American, reflective of the privilege that allowed many to stay home and stay safe. Cooking and baking served to distract, comfort, and offer a means through which to be creative during this difficult time. We worked hard to create open spaces of dialogue around this reality from the beginning, working diligently behind the scenes for a few months until we owned up to this shortcoming publicly. We had a range of lovely posts as a result, but still admit that there is lots of work to be done to invite others into this fold.

In terms of impact, we managed to build and sustain a diverse and large readership, and contributors’ pieces took us from street gardens in Hollis, Queens, to the shores of Lake Fermanagh in Northern Ireland, to Transylvania’s rural regions, to community kitchens in East Boston, to Istanbul’s densely populated neighbourhoods, and then throughout a range of Canadian provinces, into homes, camps, farms, and cottages. The accompanying stories frequently encouraged us to think more deeply about a range of social justice issues that were heightened by the pandemic, from the overwhelming sorrow people faced due to the deaths of their communities’ elders and other vulnerable loved ones, to the heightened anxieties endured by precariously employed people, to the pressing need to neutralize the tear gas that overly-aggressive police officers are using against Black Lives Matter protesters in the United States. Those who wouldn’t normally touch academic scholarship regularly read the blog, engaged with the stories, and even cooked the recipes. We were able to offer readers stories that made their days a little better and provided ways into understanding their pasts through those experienced by others. Also, we all took great pleasure in dialoguing with new and old friends throughout this process, a time that would have otherwise been quite isolating for all of us. It was wonderful to touch base with our peers, and to understand their current challenges while also learning more about who they are through their stories and the people who have shaped their lives.

Historians Cooking the Past was always meant to be a temporary project, and for now, the time has come to close the kitchen. As we all struggle to live alongside COVID-19 and forge new normals, we must also take time to ponder whether the blog continues to have meaning and offer new ways of understanding this moment. We’re all not sure. As the submissions have slowed and our stamina has waned, we are looking back at our collective story - one to which many people have graciously contributed - told with an eye to an uncertain future and deeply embedded in our familial and communal pasts. For now, we’ll return to our kitchens while we retreat from technology. It’s time to recharge and ponder where we go from here, as a project, and as a civilization.