In 2016 I was visiting Ramallah, Palestine. Each day I would walk from where I was sleeping about a mile to the old part of the city. There was a very distinct feeling of arriving into the older quarters of this city. As I turned up a narrow street, I would pass early morning pita-making shops. Then I would pass my favorite tiny falafel cafe. Whenever I ate there, usually mid-day, the owner, the only person working in this very small cafe, would prepare a dish of hummus and falafel, with pita. I loved watching this man take such quiet pride in preparing the meal. He would finish by skill-fully swishing a twirl of olive oil and a dash of green petals onto the dish. Usually I was the only person in the cafe at that hour. Yet, the owner showed such care in preparing and presenting his food. I felt so welcome, my visit so appreciated. We could easily have been family. 🏮
Pita and hummus and falafel, oh my. Served with love that made you feel like family. My feelings exactly as I expressed today. Middle Eastern hospitality is exceptional.
What a beautiful post. For me, cooking Thanksgiving dinner is about taking back a holiday and caring for my family. Days after my daughter was born (weeks early) we were rushing her back to the hospital. We spent that Thanksgiving at Children’s Hospital heating a plate of food in a microwave for families on our unit. Two years later we were once again in the hospital trying to figure out why my daughter was wasting away. We’d learned she had cystic fibrosis two months early but doctors suspected something else was going on too. It was a harrowing month long stay during which she almost died.
We found out she had celiac disease at a time when no one talked about gluten and finding stores or restaurants that could accommodate a gluten-free diet was extremely difficult (pre-smartphone, barely an internet).
Thanksgiving was a landline of foods that would sicken my daughter so I taught myself how to make the entire meal GF and delicious and started hosting every year. It’s a meal that for me represents nurturing her and the joy of being together at home.
I’m not Celiac, but OMG gluten sensitive. I too struggled through the early days of the GF desert. I can only imagine how scary that must have been for you. Brava mama!
In the 80s, I had a friend whose celiac disease went undiagnosed for a year. She, too, was wasting away. I cannot imagine this happening to a child. For such a difficult experience, your story of joy around food is delightful.
When I was going through the horrible process of divorce, I mentioned to a friend that I had seen an influencer on Instagram celebrate her own divorce becoming final with a fabulous cake and a party - and how great I thought it was, when so many people still see a “failed marriage” as a source of shame. A few days after our court date - one of the most emotional days of my life - she invited me over and we celebrated with the most beautiful carrot cake she had made, complete with golden “just divorced!” decorations. I have told her countless times since how much this meant to me… rarely have I feel so cared for and seen.
Both pieces of writing in this post are beautiful, thank you 🧡
I did a similar celebration with my sisters and best friend. It felt so good to mark the occasion in a positive way, rather than feel defeated or ashamed!
Six months ago my husband was diagnosed with heart failure and painful peripheral artery disease in his feet. Many hours of the day he was consumed by pain. Some days the highlight was his enjoying a dinner I had prepared for him. Although sometimes this caregiver needs a break and dinner might be takeout, I at least feel I can give him a bit of relief by cooking and baking delicious meals for him.
Food. That's one of the big categories of Things to Figure Out. When I got sick last summer, it seemed abrupt and suddenly I had to completely re-arrange my life. I had such profound fatigue that I could not do normal things. I had to come up with a new system for laundry (so husband could do it without mixing the darks & lights & shrinking everything). This also meant buying more bed linens and more clothes so I could go longer without needing laundry done. House cleaning had to be simplified - I bought a cordless vacuum for the upstairs and set up cleaning supplies close to where they are needed.
The main thing I learned about food so far is that the bagel shops in my area sell amazing soups and soup is great for breakfast. I eat chicken soup a lot these days. My fatigue has improved, so now I do have the energy to think more about food and figure out how to eat more than just "safe" foods.
I am so grateful that you share what it is like going through your treatments. Initially, I had thought I would be prepping for a bone marrow transplant in the final months of 2024. It turned out I have 2 different blood diseases. The bone marrow transplant has now been pushed out to the vague future, while we try to get the ITP into remission. Anyway, it's not a very rosy outlook, but I am enthusiastically fighting the good fight. I plan to play Jon's new album later today when some old friends come over. We are all musicians and it will be a nice hang for sure.
Oh, the beauty of both pieces and the relatability...so here is my "Two Act Play." Act One: Mom-She ate "like a bird" (her words) and cooked so there was always enough in case someone showed up. Someone usually did-a neighborhood friend, a boy of the hour, a boy of the past (known as part of the Old Boyfriends Club-they all loved Mom). Act Two: My Beloved Daughter-often ill with a myriad of challenging/mysterious evil maladies...my challenge is to keep enough calories in her. And so, I make her lunch daily with love and great thought into nutrient dense, easy to digest foods, and when she doesn't have a late Grad school class, we eat dinner together. And when the digestive slow down comes, I make a teeny tiny plate, with just a little of everything for her and she always takes a little bite, knowing there is no judgment on how much or how little she consumes. Food, is love. Mom taught me that. I love her, miss her to heartbreak, and then, make a little plate of food for myself, with all the love she would have given me.
Probably because my mom was addicted to all those narcotics prescribed in the 1950s, as a kid I was shipped off to spend each summer at my gram's dairy farm. I looked forward to it because there was food, real meals that my grandmother cooked and that were shared with the farm workers at her kitchen table. Boiled potatoes, meat, freshly picked sweet corn (except for time I mistakenly picked from the cow corn patch...tougher than tripe). Still in our barn clothes, knowing we'd be back at the chores after 'supper', it was an unbelievable feeling of family and love. I knew it would come to an abrupt end when school started, and I'd adjust. But years later when I became a mom myself, family meals at the kitchen table became a top priority and are to this day with grandchildren. I'll aways be grateful for those summers on the farm.
Hello All. I loved all you have written Suleika. Thank you. With my illness eating and not eating is daily. And "Being fed by another feels like an act of love, especially when you’re struggling" is beautiful. Especially your friend Johnny's meals and the dinner, is an act of love. My husband will cook and they are the best meals. And he will eat what I do even thought he does not have to. Thank you for your beautiful words that feel like nourishment for the soul.
I really appreciate this post and empathise with the not being able to eat and the anti-nausea meds - I have hyperemesis gravidarum, a pregnancy condition that makes all food disgusting and if I do try to eat, I'll throw up. The only way out is through, many months of living on a few biscuits a day plus anti-emetic meds. I dream of eating again. Just to say that I know it's a different condition but I understand the nausea, Suleika, and I'm glad you've found a bright spot within it!
My mom, 89 came to live with us during covid and until she went into a nursing facility. About two years, I cooked her three meals a day, took them upstairs on a tray decorated with all her favorite things. New very colorful bowls and plates, that she loved to look at. Special Napkins for each month, some paper, some cloth. Flowers, rocks, newspaper clippings, all things that she had sent me for 69 years .
Her food was all home made and special, and most of it, she did not eat. However she smelled and looked and touched, everything on that tray.
I cooked with a daughters love, for this frail women, my mom, upstairs.
I would say that the attention to detail and beauty that came with the food , was the star. During Christmas one year, I found her old cookie cutters, that I use for ornaments on our tree. One went up for her breakfast and she was so happy to see it again. Old letters, handkerchiefs, I had enough stuff to make her happy, and well feed. I could not slow down dementia or anorexia, but I had a couple of years of joy and moments with my mom, that felt like home cooking❤️
Miquel was my neighbor in my NYC apartment buildings for 14 years. A few years ago he received the news of having cancer. Each time he came back from hs hospital treatments. A few of us on the floor would leave his favorite food at his
door. I was told he loved Mac and cheese, so many times when he’d get home from hospital treatments I’d leave the Mac and cheese at his door. The greatest of all is Miquel knew we loved him. It felt so good to give him joy with food he could eat and that he loved. Unfortunately for him, his family and all who love him he didn’t make it and died in April. Suleika as you are well aware there are no guarantees in anything in our lives, but to know you have beautiful friends, family and your love Jon and some who cook for you during your treatments it is such a powerful act of love. Suleika you and your family and friends are beautiful humans which is such & incredible gift and you have magnetized beautiful humans in this community. What a powerful act of love when family, friends, loved ones are ill and food is prepared and laid at your door. It feels like an offering in the name of the Divine to keep you held and safe. I miss Miquel and his joy but as I’m writing this I can feel joy in my bones just feeling how happy and loved he is. Bless you all
Every Sunday afternoon my husband and I cook for the upcoming week. I can’t remember when we began this tradition, but it was born from the realization that when we come home from a long day at work we are hungry and tired and do not have the time to prepare a nice meal. We prepare a few dishes every Sunday and supplement with a few quick things we can easily add throughout the week.
The food repertoire has expanded When our son was in high school he complained that what we were cooking was boring and suggested that we cook food from every country in the world. We embraced that idea. It took us two years, but we went through the alphabet and cooked food from every country. I learned so much from that project. There were countries I had never heard of (Kiribati for one) and it was fascinating to see how countries that conquered other countries influenced the cuisine. Our cooking is now an amalgam of dishes from all over the world
Over the years the routine has evolved a bit. At first we cooked for ourselves and our son. Later, we started to have a formal dinner on Sundays and invite my parents when they moved into our building. Towards the end of his life my father had many food restrictions so we would prepare a special portion for him without the ingredients he could not have. Since my father died my mother continues to come on her own and we prepare extra servings for her to last her for most of the week.
This year our son is spending the year in another country and it was the first time he was not with us for Thanksgiving. We had a lovely time celebrating with a few people close to us. I will admit that I do not love to cook. My husband is the chef and I am the sous chef. For my husband cooking is an act of love. For me it’s a bit more of a chore and I sometimes feel bad that I can not go to any cultural events on Sunday afternoons or evenings. Nevertheless I appreciate being able to come home from work to a great meal. My mother cooks for herself with great difficulty. It is so wonderful that we can provide her with good food that she can easily warm up. Sunday dinners are also great opportunity to spend time with her.
Lisa - it sounds like this could be a cookbook/memoir in the making. I love the idea of recipes from every country ! - but even more, I love the line, "I will admit that I do not love to cook." Cooking is complicated - meaning many of us (yes, that's me) have a Love-Hate relationship with it. But you have turned what could be a burden into a ritual that is sustaining on so many levels, to the people you love most in the world.
What poignant, beautiful essays today from Suleika and Jenny. Thank you. There are countless times when food represented the outpouring of love. It's simply the kind of love that's felt, smelled and tasted, - nourishing both body and soul. When our daughter was diagnosed with neuroblastoma at age two months, my mother-in-law packed her bags and moved into our tiny apartment in Boston. "Nanny," as she would affectionately be called by her grandchildren, was the glue that held our little family together. She shopped, did our laundry, was at our side during hospital stays, and cooked for us every evening. It was the normalcy of meal time that seemed to make the days bearable. The dinners she made were hearty and delicious, - pastas, meatloaf, pork chops, baked chicken. I don't recall anything prepared, - though I'm sure we ordered a takeout pizza now and then. Our baby girl would be in her rocker swing, either watching us or dozing, as we lit candles and put a mellow disc on the CD player. The through line was simple,- Nanny feeding us, nourishing us, so we could do the same for our infant. Our girl is now a thriving young adult, whose passion for cooking and baking seems like an inherited gift from her grandmother. Though Nanny has now passed, my eternal gratitude for having the best mother-in-law ever will remain with me always.
What a soul-nourishing post to share - thank you. 💞 does your wonderful friend Dr. Johnny have an Instagram account or platform where he shares his beautiful food and recipes with the world? I very much hope so! 🙏🏻
In 2016 I was visiting Ramallah, Palestine. Each day I would walk from where I was sleeping about a mile to the old part of the city. There was a very distinct feeling of arriving into the older quarters of this city. As I turned up a narrow street, I would pass early morning pita-making shops. Then I would pass my favorite tiny falafel cafe. Whenever I ate there, usually mid-day, the owner, the only person working in this very small cafe, would prepare a dish of hummus and falafel, with pita. I loved watching this man take such quiet pride in preparing the meal. He would finish by skill-fully swishing a twirl of olive oil and a dash of green petals onto the dish. Usually I was the only person in the cafe at that hour. Yet, the owner showed such care in preparing and presenting his food. I felt so welcome, my visit so appreciated. We could easily have been family. 🏮
Pita and hummus and falafel, oh my. Served with love that made you feel like family. My feelings exactly as I expressed today. Middle Eastern hospitality is exceptional.
What a beautiful post. For me, cooking Thanksgiving dinner is about taking back a holiday and caring for my family. Days after my daughter was born (weeks early) we were rushing her back to the hospital. We spent that Thanksgiving at Children’s Hospital heating a plate of food in a microwave for families on our unit. Two years later we were once again in the hospital trying to figure out why my daughter was wasting away. We’d learned she had cystic fibrosis two months early but doctors suspected something else was going on too. It was a harrowing month long stay during which she almost died.
We found out she had celiac disease at a time when no one talked about gluten and finding stores or restaurants that could accommodate a gluten-free diet was extremely difficult (pre-smartphone, barely an internet).
Thanksgiving was a landline of foods that would sicken my daughter so I taught myself how to make the entire meal GF and delicious and started hosting every year. It’s a meal that for me represents nurturing her and the joy of being together at home.
What an act of love and reclamation, as you say. Sending so much love, Abby!
Thank you ❤️❤️❤️
I’m not Celiac, but OMG gluten sensitive. I too struggled through the early days of the GF desert. I can only imagine how scary that must have been for you. Brava mama!
Brava to you too! It WAS a desert! I’m so thankful it’s gotten way easier.
In the 80s, I had a friend whose celiac disease went undiagnosed for a year. She, too, was wasting away. I cannot imagine this happening to a child. For such a difficult experience, your story of joy around food is delightful.
Thank you so much, Jeanne!
This, too, this place called The Isolation Journals, is a gathering around a table. Your words as our sustenance.
❤️❤️❤️
I was feeling exactly this way!
Lovely.
When I was going through the horrible process of divorce, I mentioned to a friend that I had seen an influencer on Instagram celebrate her own divorce becoming final with a fabulous cake and a party - and how great I thought it was, when so many people still see a “failed marriage” as a source of shame. A few days after our court date - one of the most emotional days of my life - she invited me over and we celebrated with the most beautiful carrot cake she had made, complete with golden “just divorced!” decorations. I have told her countless times since how much this meant to me… rarely have I feel so cared for and seen.
Both pieces of writing in this post are beautiful, thank you 🧡
I did a similar celebration with my sisters and best friend. It felt so good to mark the occasion in a positive way, rather than feel defeated or ashamed!
Absolutely! I’m glad you had the opportunity to celebrate your new start.
What a lovely way to celebrate self compassion !!!
Thank you 🧡
Six months ago my husband was diagnosed with heart failure and painful peripheral artery disease in his feet. Many hours of the day he was consumed by pain. Some days the highlight was his enjoying a dinner I had prepared for him. Although sometimes this caregiver needs a break and dinner might be takeout, I at least feel I can give him a bit of relief by cooking and baking delicious meals for him.
Agree, agree, Agree. Many blessings to you both.
Food. That's one of the big categories of Things to Figure Out. When I got sick last summer, it seemed abrupt and suddenly I had to completely re-arrange my life. I had such profound fatigue that I could not do normal things. I had to come up with a new system for laundry (so husband could do it without mixing the darks & lights & shrinking everything). This also meant buying more bed linens and more clothes so I could go longer without needing laundry done. House cleaning had to be simplified - I bought a cordless vacuum for the upstairs and set up cleaning supplies close to where they are needed.
The main thing I learned about food so far is that the bagel shops in my area sell amazing soups and soup is great for breakfast. I eat chicken soup a lot these days. My fatigue has improved, so now I do have the energy to think more about food and figure out how to eat more than just "safe" foods.
I am so grateful that you share what it is like going through your treatments. Initially, I had thought I would be prepping for a bone marrow transplant in the final months of 2024. It turned out I have 2 different blood diseases. The bone marrow transplant has now been pushed out to the vague future, while we try to get the ITP into remission. Anyway, it's not a very rosy outlook, but I am enthusiastically fighting the good fight. I plan to play Jon's new album later today when some old friends come over. We are all musicians and it will be a nice hang for sure.
Robin - you know your namesake symbolizes good luck and rebirth....I wish you both, and a safe landing as you fly toward remission.
that is beautiful - thank you so much
Sending love and strength to you, Robin! ❤️
sending love and strength to you too
you are beauty personified
❤️
My best friend has ITP. Sending you lots of love and hopes that you are feeling better soon.
sending love to your best friend and to you too - thank you
Oh, the beauty of both pieces and the relatability...so here is my "Two Act Play." Act One: Mom-She ate "like a bird" (her words) and cooked so there was always enough in case someone showed up. Someone usually did-a neighborhood friend, a boy of the hour, a boy of the past (known as part of the Old Boyfriends Club-they all loved Mom). Act Two: My Beloved Daughter-often ill with a myriad of challenging/mysterious evil maladies...my challenge is to keep enough calories in her. And so, I make her lunch daily with love and great thought into nutrient dense, easy to digest foods, and when she doesn't have a late Grad school class, we eat dinner together. And when the digestive slow down comes, I make a teeny tiny plate, with just a little of everything for her and she always takes a little bite, knowing there is no judgment on how much or how little she consumes. Food, is love. Mom taught me that. I love her, miss her to heartbreak, and then, make a little plate of food for myself, with all the love she would have given me.
Probably because my mom was addicted to all those narcotics prescribed in the 1950s, as a kid I was shipped off to spend each summer at my gram's dairy farm. I looked forward to it because there was food, real meals that my grandmother cooked and that were shared with the farm workers at her kitchen table. Boiled potatoes, meat, freshly picked sweet corn (except for time I mistakenly picked from the cow corn patch...tougher than tripe). Still in our barn clothes, knowing we'd be back at the chores after 'supper', it was an unbelievable feeling of family and love. I knew it would come to an abrupt end when school started, and I'd adjust. But years later when I became a mom myself, family meals at the kitchen table became a top priority and are to this day with grandchildren. I'll aways be grateful for those summers on the farm.
Not the cow patch corn!
Hello All. I loved all you have written Suleika. Thank you. With my illness eating and not eating is daily. And "Being fed by another feels like an act of love, especially when you’re struggling" is beautiful. Especially your friend Johnny's meals and the dinner, is an act of love. My husband will cook and they are the best meals. And he will eat what I do even thought he does not have to. Thank you for your beautiful words that feel like nourishment for the soul.
I really appreciate this post and empathise with the not being able to eat and the anti-nausea meds - I have hyperemesis gravidarum, a pregnancy condition that makes all food disgusting and if I do try to eat, I'll throw up. The only way out is through, many months of living on a few biscuits a day plus anti-emetic meds. I dream of eating again. Just to say that I know it's a different condition but I understand the nausea, Suleika, and I'm glad you've found a bright spot within it!
Sending my support right back to you. ❤️
Hope you start to feel better soon
My mom, 89 came to live with us during covid and until she went into a nursing facility. About two years, I cooked her three meals a day, took them upstairs on a tray decorated with all her favorite things. New very colorful bowls and plates, that she loved to look at. Special Napkins for each month, some paper, some cloth. Flowers, rocks, newspaper clippings, all things that she had sent me for 69 years .
Her food was all home made and special, and most of it, she did not eat. However she smelled and looked and touched, everything on that tray.
I cooked with a daughters love, for this frail women, my mom, upstairs.
I would say that the attention to detail and beauty that came with the food , was the star. During Christmas one year, I found her old cookie cutters, that I use for ornaments on our tree. One went up for her breakfast and she was so happy to see it again. Old letters, handkerchiefs, I had enough stuff to make her happy, and well feed. I could not slow down dementia or anorexia, but I had a couple of years of joy and moments with my mom, that felt like home cooking❤️
Such a great example of how a meal can be so much more than food. ❤️
Miquel was my neighbor in my NYC apartment buildings for 14 years. A few years ago he received the news of having cancer. Each time he came back from hs hospital treatments. A few of us on the floor would leave his favorite food at his
door. I was told he loved Mac and cheese, so many times when he’d get home from hospital treatments I’d leave the Mac and cheese at his door. The greatest of all is Miquel knew we loved him. It felt so good to give him joy with food he could eat and that he loved. Unfortunately for him, his family and all who love him he didn’t make it and died in April. Suleika as you are well aware there are no guarantees in anything in our lives, but to know you have beautiful friends, family and your love Jon and some who cook for you during your treatments it is such a powerful act of love. Suleika you and your family and friends are beautiful humans which is such & incredible gift and you have magnetized beautiful humans in this community. What a powerful act of love when family, friends, loved ones are ill and food is prepared and laid at your door. It feels like an offering in the name of the Divine to keep you held and safe. I miss Miquel and his joy but as I’m writing this I can feel joy in my bones just feeling how happy and loved he is. Bless you all
I’m sorry for you loss of Miguel. You are such a wonderful friend and beautiful person. I love what you wrote today.
Laurie I’m touched deeply. Bless you
Sherri
Every Sunday afternoon my husband and I cook for the upcoming week. I can’t remember when we began this tradition, but it was born from the realization that when we come home from a long day at work we are hungry and tired and do not have the time to prepare a nice meal. We prepare a few dishes every Sunday and supplement with a few quick things we can easily add throughout the week.
The food repertoire has expanded When our son was in high school he complained that what we were cooking was boring and suggested that we cook food from every country in the world. We embraced that idea. It took us two years, but we went through the alphabet and cooked food from every country. I learned so much from that project. There were countries I had never heard of (Kiribati for one) and it was fascinating to see how countries that conquered other countries influenced the cuisine. Our cooking is now an amalgam of dishes from all over the world
Over the years the routine has evolved a bit. At first we cooked for ourselves and our son. Later, we started to have a formal dinner on Sundays and invite my parents when they moved into our building. Towards the end of his life my father had many food restrictions so we would prepare a special portion for him without the ingredients he could not have. Since my father died my mother continues to come on her own and we prepare extra servings for her to last her for most of the week.
This year our son is spending the year in another country and it was the first time he was not with us for Thanksgiving. We had a lovely time celebrating with a few people close to us. I will admit that I do not love to cook. My husband is the chef and I am the sous chef. For my husband cooking is an act of love. For me it’s a bit more of a chore and I sometimes feel bad that I can not go to any cultural events on Sunday afternoons or evenings. Nevertheless I appreciate being able to come home from work to a great meal. My mother cooks for herself with great difficulty. It is so wonderful that we can provide her with good food that she can easily warm up. Sunday dinners are also great opportunity to spend time with her.
Lisa - it sounds like this could be a cookbook/memoir in the making. I love the idea of recipes from every country ! - but even more, I love the line, "I will admit that I do not love to cook." Cooking is complicated - meaning many of us (yes, that's me) have a Love-Hate relationship with it. But you have turned what could be a burden into a ritual that is sustaining on so many levels, to the people you love most in the world.
What poignant, beautiful essays today from Suleika and Jenny. Thank you. There are countless times when food represented the outpouring of love. It's simply the kind of love that's felt, smelled and tasted, - nourishing both body and soul. When our daughter was diagnosed with neuroblastoma at age two months, my mother-in-law packed her bags and moved into our tiny apartment in Boston. "Nanny," as she would affectionately be called by her grandchildren, was the glue that held our little family together. She shopped, did our laundry, was at our side during hospital stays, and cooked for us every evening. It was the normalcy of meal time that seemed to make the days bearable. The dinners she made were hearty and delicious, - pastas, meatloaf, pork chops, baked chicken. I don't recall anything prepared, - though I'm sure we ordered a takeout pizza now and then. Our baby girl would be in her rocker swing, either watching us or dozing, as we lit candles and put a mellow disc on the CD player. The through line was simple,- Nanny feeding us, nourishing us, so we could do the same for our infant. Our girl is now a thriving young adult, whose passion for cooking and baking seems like an inherited gift from her grandmother. Though Nanny has now passed, my eternal gratitude for having the best mother-in-law ever will remain with me always.
What an incredible gift your mother in law gave. Thank you for sharing ❤️
If chicken soup was a person it would be my best friend. It has been something made or bought and inevitably heals my soul.
What a soul-nourishing post to share - thank you. 💞 does your wonderful friend Dr. Johnny have an Instagram account or platform where he shares his beautiful food and recipes with the world? I very much hope so! 🙏🏻
No, I'm afraid not!