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Quote by Yōko Tawada

“Dad never praised my cooking or complained about it, either. So I always thought cooking was like putting on your socks, say, or opening a window - nothing special. But now that I had a girlfriend I realized that if you fed a woman good food she'd be yours forever, and was kind of upset with Dad for not telling me something so important.”

Quote by Yōko Tawada

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Scattered All Over the Earth

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Yōko Tawada

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“Big Ma never made quick-fast-in-a-hurry food. She made food that needed washing before it touched a knife, pot, or pan. Or she made beans that soaked overnight and simmered with neck bones for a good part of the next day. And stewed meat in heavy enamel pots, with bay leaves and carrots and potatoes that soaked up gravy. Big Ma cooked food meant to stick to your insides and keep your belly full. She cooked food that took time.”

“Something must be said for childhood favourites where, as adults, we take a bite and are instantly transported back to lunch in Nana's kitchen or a family Christmas dinner. We find fondness in home-cooked, comfort food where the 'comfort' is mostly reminiscence.”

“When they heard that someone was full figured and liked cooking & eating, most men imagined someone who was quiet and domestic; someone whose interior life would not surpass their own. But did that reasoning really hold up? Eating was fundamentally an individual and egoistic compulsion... a gourmand was ultimately a seeker of the truth. You could wrap up their mission in all kinds of fancy language, but it was simply confronting their desires day in and day out. As you learn to cook, you become increasingly able to shut out the outside world and create a fortress within your own spirit. You hunted down your prey using fire and blade to fashion them down into the form you desired... it takes a deathly earnestness to remain faithful to your desires at all times.”

“In a village quaint and bright, Lived a chef with great delight. Every morn, with break of day, He’d cook his meals, then he’d say “Did you eat?” His voice so clear, Echoed far and echoed near. Neighbors smiled, children played, In his care, their hearts were laid. One fine day, a stranger came, Hungry, tired, seeking fame. “Teach me, chef, your art so fine, I long to make my dishes shine.” With a nod and knowing glance, The chef began the culinary dance. “First, you learn to truly care, For food is love, you must declare.” Days turned weeks, the lessons flew, The stranger learned and friendships grew. But fame and glory filled his mind, Leaving care and love behind. He opened a place, grand and vast, But love for food, a thing of the past. “Did you eat?” He’d never ask, Focused solely on his task. DID YOU EAT? Customers came, then soon they went, For something vital had been spent. Food was fine, but heart was cold, A lesson learned, a tale retold. Back he went, with heavy heart, To the chef who’d played his part. “Teach me now, what I have missed, For love and care, I have dismissed.” The chef then smiled, wise and kind, “To care for others, open your mind. The food you make, with love instill, And hearts you’ll nourish, a void you’ll fill.” “Did you eat?” He asked anew, And in that question, wisdom true. For food with love is more than treat, It’s a bond, a joy, a life complete. So here’s the tale, both light and deep, A lesson strong for all to keep. In every meal, in every greet, Ask with love, “Did you eat?”