“Some foods are so comforting, so nourishing of body and soul, that to eat them is to be home again after a long journey. To eat such a meal is to remember that, though the world is full of knives and storms, the body is built for kindness” -Eli Brown
There is nothing better than homemade spaghetti sauce with bread and butter. Luckily for me, one of my mom’s legacies is the making of spaghetti sauce. Kate, Emily, and I all view the process as both cathartic and also one of the connections we carry of our Mom. Shortly after Mom’s diagnosis, looking for comfort through familiar and loving food, Kate and I decided to meet at Mom’s and with her guidance make her sauce her way. As fairly budget-conscious people we decided that the best course of action was to make A LOT of sauce, divide it into thirds, then Kate, Mom, and Dad, and I would all have Spaghetti Sauce for the freezer.
Several pounds of hamburger and an ungodly amount of tomato products later the sauce filled an entire stock pot. By the time I got to Mom’s, Kate had begun the process and together we added spices, more tomato product, a little sugar. But, given that this was a significant amount of sauce it was decided (I am not naming names here, but this post’s author did not make this decision) to up the heat some as a mean to speed the process. Not even fifteen minutes later the smell hit us, the sauce was burning. For any person reading this who has ever made spaghetti sauce, you like us know that once you burn the bottom, the entire batch takes on a unique and decidedly burnt sauce taste. But, (again) being the fairly cheap people we are we added more spices, stirred more vigorously, divided and froze the sauce.
The entire winter, Kate, Dad and Mom, and I ate burnt spaghetti sauce. Text exchanges in those months took on a fun theme- “I just had some sauce, if you reheat it with more spices and a little sugar you can barely taste that it’s burnt” and “the sauce isn’t so bad, I made a lasagna and could barely tell.”
Lessons from Sauceageddon 2015
1. Food will in Fact Help
Food and grief are complicated. Some people who are grieving find that food is just not appealing to them while others find themselves managing complicated food cravings. But, food can also promote healing. The article, “Can Food Help Us Cope With Grief?” points out that for many food is tied to feeling of love and comfort. These feelings of love return when we try to perfect or recreate a family recipe. As the article says, “After the death of someone close food can seem unimportant. Grieving can make us lose our appetite and the motivation to cook, but food can also play an important healing role in remembering those who have gone.” For Kate and I, making Mom’s spaghetti sauce with her before she dies helped us in our anticipatory grief. Through cooking and remembering the times we had mom’s spaghetti sauce, we became more connected to mom and each other.
2. It is All About Perspective
We didn’t have to keep the sauce, and we certainly did not have to eat it all winter. But, instead of focusing on the burnt part of the sauce we focused on how to improve it, enjoy it, and use it. Life is going to hand us all more than burnt spaghetti sauce, and we will all have to decide if we are going to eat it or just give up and throw it away. It is not the event that truly matters. Instead, it is how you think about and cope with the event. Today, two years later Kate and I sometimes joke about getting together to “burn some spaghetti sauce.” For us, this has become a code for “hey life is pretty rough right now, let’s do something fun and not focused on caregiving, paperwork, and stress.”
3. Sometimes All you Can do is Laugh
Burning that spaghetti sauce gave Kate and me a chance to either focus on negative feelings such as anger that we burnt the sauce, or sadness that we would not have the same delicious taste we usually did when mom made it, or to laugh at our mistake and take meaning from it. Kate and I chose to laugh. I remember the day of the burnt spaghetti sauce fondly. Not because we made burnt spaghetti sauce, rather, I laughed so hard I cried, Mom laughed at both Kate and me, and we had a genuinely good day. In our lives there will be many moments where we can either laugh or cry, for me, laughing will always be the preferable solution.
How do you handle life’s burnt spaghetti sauces? I would love to hear from you in the comments.