Suite Gratitude

Keith Weller

Feeding others is one of the ultimate generosities, and being well fed, one of the most natural triggers for gratitude.

In this season of harvest and thanksgiving, memories of meals made magical with kindness float in the autumn air, along with the perfume of the first tart-sweet bites of just-picked apple, the first shake of warming spices into a pumpkin pie, and the smoked-sugar scent of vegetables caramelizing in the oven on the first day that extra heat in the kitchen is welcome.

At 19 years old, a whim took me off to France, to join a language program in the town of Tours, and unexpectedly, to some of the most unappealing food I have ever encountered.

But every other meal forced us to the dim and depressing cafeteria, with its demoralizing vats of unnamed gray stringiness seemingly created to shatter any positive expectations of French cookery we might have had.

But redemption was at hand. One Saturday, at the end of a week with a particularly gruesome quantity of unidentifiable dorm food and irritating verb conjugations, one of the French instructors and her American husband invited me to join them for a meal. They had no obligation to do so. Aside from chatting after class about the rapidly expanding cloud of saffron-yellow knitting my instructor, Helene, produced at every quiet moment, we barely knew each other. Yet she and her husband made me feel as if there could be no better guest in the entire world.

She was a part-time instructor and he a recently immigrated musician waiting for a work permit. They had very little money, but no hesitation in sharing the simple delights of their life with me. Deeply in love, they had faced career sacrifices and social disapproval to be together. As if in a scene from a classic French film, we sat at a modest sidewalk café, nursing mineral water and a couple of espressos, talking about love and the choices it brings.

In time to catch the vendor before the weekend closing, we went on to their neighborhood market, buying the cheapest (and best) fruits and vegetables of the season, fresh eggs, and containers of Helene's childhood favorite, Petit Suisse, a rich yogurt-style cheese to be mixed with sugar for dessert.

The freshness, the immediacy, and the care for each element of the meal sang of what joyful food should be. Helene seasoned the salad with memories of picking vegetables barefoot in her mother's garden; Rodney created the omelette, explaining how Helene had showed him how to keep the eggs from ending up scrambled. And they taught me how to mix the snowfall of sugar on my plate into the soft cylinder of Petit Suisse in just such a way as to achieve the perfect balance of sweet and sharp. Most of all, the meal was flavored with trust; this was not an occasion where real life was shoved away in order to bring out the festive "best". They trusted me to appreciate their food, their company, their home, and their life exactly as it was, and the honor of that trust was delicious to me.

When nostalgia brings me back to the memory of that day, it still shines, more than 25 years later, with the spirit of thanksgiving, generosity, and the true gift of a simple spread: feeling at home in the hearts of others. 

Sharon Abra Hanen is a writer, creativity coach, and grateful eater who delights in authenticity in food and friendship. She explores the connections between food, memory, and the creative life at wellfedpoet.wordpress.com.