Food Memories from the Pantries of COVID-19

For those of us normally obsessed with historical and contemporary food adventures, the self-quarantined existence of the present-day crisis requires certain adjustments. The proximity of food insecurity for seniors and many others around the world facing empty shelves provides lessons for the entire community about the brokenness and fragility of corporate capitalism and the global industrial complex. Although l had spent decades of my life and career researching, cooking, and writing about the foods of enslaved Africans, already I have gained startlingly new insights into the meanings of foods, their pleasures and unexpected connections to memory.

Since the combined ages of our household of two exceeds just about any posted speed limit times two, I anticipated an early withdrawal from the world of personal food shopping. I bought groceries for three weeks. Finding the supermarket’s frozen foods section all but empty, I triumphantly came home with the last three bags of non-GMO frozen okra. We had just jointly shared an annual division of a local goat, safely in the freezer, and I set aside a beautiful piece of local fresh-caught salmon for an anticipated birthday dinner.

So, although I am running low on milk and ice cream, please don’t feel sorry for me. With more time on my hands, I have discovered my pantry is well stocked with pomegranate molasses and Trinidad curry. I have an enormous box of Kosher salt, plus three gifts of French Fleur de sel that I had been hoarding, but now have begun to use with abandon. I have the ingredients to make my own mustard for the next year. We have jars of homemade pepper sauce from last summer’s bounties. After excavating my freezer, I emerged with a package marked “backstrap,” a cut of meat, – but is it elk or deer? I’ve forgotten. Eventually I will rely on the kindness of younger neighbors and food delivery. For now, I am realizing that limitations have their own patterns of expression.

Let me try to explain. Under the far more extreme conditions of Atlantic world enslavement, African cooks were forced to improvise on the other side of the ocean. Across the Caribbean and American plantations, they used different cuts of meat, sought out and made substitutions in staples, vegetables, and seasonings. When hurricanes affected the supplies of imported foodstuffs, the enslaved Africans sometimes saved themselves and their enslavers from experiencing famines and starvation. Moreover, they retained the meaning of their West and West Central African foodways through adherence to traditional modes of preparation and the retention of the patterns of behavior and beliefs that accompanied eating. They rationed and shared food, retaining the vibrancy and sensibility of community. They attached proverbs and lessons to giving and sharing. They served portions of drink and foods to deities and ancestors. They used beliefs to bridge the gap between memory and meaning.

And so, I plan multiple meals out of everything, including leftovers. Creativity and joy abound amidst the scarcity of supplies and the forced limits on an abundant and privileged lifestyle. The opportunity to eat more locally and plan more carefully brings appreciative savings in our food budget and lessens the waste from complicated menus. And still we eat mostly along West African and West Indian pathways – clinging to soups, stews, and the “cook-up rice” that clears the refrigerator of all the leftovers, the unleavened bread when the pantry’s yeast runs out. We rely on smoked and salted foods, greatly reducing our intake of meat and fish. We are transported back across a continent and an ocean, as we remember our shared lifetime of meals in good times and savor these moments of quiet house arrest.