Thin Air, High Hope

I love food. You may have guessed this since half of my posts end up discussing this topic in one way or another.

I wander through bakeries like some women wander through clothing stores.

Food has woven itself into the fabric of my memories. It’s the crispy-on-the-outside, tender-on-the-inside pork chops my Grandma would prepare for our visits, the first taste of warm homemade bread with butter melting down my chin (thanks to Chris!), my dad patiently teaching me to make pancakes when I was just 8 or 9. It’s Alex’s dad passing on the art of making pecan rolls to my daughter, ensuring all the “good stuff” stays inside. It’s my mom’s broccoli and cheese casserole, the dish that miraculously made me want to eat vegetables as a child.

Returning to the States after living abroad has been unexpectedly challenging. While adapting to a different culture overseas had its rough moments, readjusting to my own culture has proved equally daunting. In a few days, we’ll have been back in the States for two months, and the ache in my heart persists. I can’t pinpoint the exact cause. Perhaps it’s the uncertainty of whether I’ll see certain people again or leaving a job that felt so profoundly impactful. It might even be the subtle shifts in my perspectives that have left me less certain about some aspects of life compared to my pre-abroad days.

Once more, I find solace in the embrace of food memories.

I fondly recollect the meals we shared in La Paz with incredible people: daily breakfasts with our kind Spanish professor, sharing bowls of soup with coworkers, cooking for a horde of friends crammed into our apartment, and countless meals in homes where we struggled through our broken Spanish. It seemed that food was our universal language, and remarkable friendships blossomed from there.

Food isn’t just about taste; it’s about comfort and connection. In a recent sermon, I learned that food is referenced almost 100 times in the gospels, often in the context of Jesus sharing a meal or providing one to others.

I’m particularly drawn to the story of Jesus cooking breakfast for his discouraged disciples who had returned to their old occupations. He built a fire, cooked a meal, and greeted them with fish and bread “When they (the disciples) got there, they found breakfast waiting for them–fish cooking over a charcoal fire, and some bread.” John 21:9. Perhaps that meal triggered memories of an earlier gathering—a time when they felt strong, faithful, and bound by promises and laughter.

Food has this remarkable power to connect, console, encourage, and fortify. While we’ve sometimes misused it, as we tend to do with good things, it remains inherently good. I’d love to hear about one of your food memories—a cherished family recipe or even a cooking tip you’d like to share. Feel free to share below, and who knows, maybe someday we’ll share a meal together!

Cooking tips from my dear friends in La Paz
1. A little goes a long way.  The women in La Paz were amazing in their frugality.  Instead of using a whole onion, they would just finely dice a quarter of it. The flavor was the same but the onion was used for 3 or 4 meals!
2. Always toast your rice or quinoa before cooking.
This might not be a secret, but I learned it for the first time standing next to my dear friend, Eugenia.
3. Rinsing your quinoa halfway through the cooking time will get rid of the bitter taste.
4. Stretch your meat by adding less expensive veggies. Again, a great tip in frugality!
5. And finally… meals don’t have to be elaborate, but they always taste better if they’re shared!