The student news site of The Harker School.

Harker Aquila

The student news site of The Harker School.

Harker Aquila

The student news site of The Harker School.

Harker Aquila

Winged Post
Newsletter

À La Mody — The Magic of Food

Every Sunday morning, for as long as I can remember, I’ve accompanied my mother to our local farmers’ market where I am always surrounded by the difficult choices: bright, fuchsia-colored beets or tender, milky-white horse radishes.

What used to be a dreaded, early-morning chore of waking up and shuttling over to the farmer’s market, has now become a privilege I seldom enjoy during first semester senior year.

Weekends are used to catch up on lost sleep, so I reluctantly must reject foggy-skied mornings amidst rows of garden-fresh produce to remain underneath a heap of down covers.

Food is one of those things that has always intrigued me to the point of obsession. I ask my mother what’s for dinner as soon as I finish lunch. The pressing question is always, what’s in the fridge? I eat when I’m bored; I bake when I’m stressed.

I spend more hours on Food&Wine and Epicurious than on Facebook, scanning the hundreds of possible pies and casseroles and bookmarking my favorites along the way.

I own a library of recipe books and year-old cooking magazines, stained from gastronomic disasters. And I’ve watched Ratatouille enough times to recite the lines word for word.

It baffles me that not enough people cook. Families would rather bring home a quick takeout than spend less than an hour putting together a basic, healthy meal.

Cooking is the marriage of flavors. It’s finely chopping a garlic and tomato and sautéing them in olive oil. Slicing a plump, green zucchini and tossing it into the mixture. Turning up the flame and sprinkling a pinch of salt.

It’s the chemistry and art of being able to create an intense masterpiece out of simple compounds. A bit of tradition with a dash of creativity, spiced up with my own personal touch; that extra ingredient called “me.”

Every recipe isn’t just a regurgitation from a cookbook. It contains traces the chef’s fingerprints—a spontaneous garnish or an extra hint of chili to add some heat—as it is served upon the table, ready to be devoured.

But more than self-expression and the unity of flavors, food brings people together. Across the world and throughout history, food has played an integral part in celebrating festivals, weddings and other joyous occasions.

Thanksgiving is celebrated around food, because it is the quintessence of family and friendship.

My own family makes it a priority to eat together every night; no matter what, all four of us will sit at the dinner table and share the little bits of insight we gleaned from the day—a funny anecdote, a not-so-great test score, something I learned in class. It’s the ideal way to spend “quality family time.”

Similarly, at school, lunch is often the only time when I can socialize with a few of my friends.
My advisory can’t even function without some sort of delectable sweet or savory. In fact, one of the first things we did at the start of the school year was create a food sign up sheet. Ah, the priorities.

Alumni always come back to the food—yes, it’s really no mystery that most post-graduates visit during long lunch.

We’re immensely lucky not to have typical school cafeteria food served daily. Our menu carries the whole spectrum of international flavor: from sushi to samosas to Swedish meatballs, the options are endless. Somehow, even the French fries seem healthier.

But this column is hardly about being healthy. In fact, some of the most creatively well-made dishes are drizzled with butter or topped with ample amounts of crème fraiche. Cooking is so beautiful, yet so simple.

Many of us have been in that position where we’re choosing between ready-made boxed salads or take-out.
But I urge you to create space to genuinely care for the food you ingest. Explore the endless options and cook something—whether it is revisiting an old recipe you’ve been saving, or just boiling pasta for the first time.

You may suffer through a few kitchen catastrophes with a couple battle scars, but I promise you, the end result will be pure satisfaction.

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