Finding Magic in Food in a Time of Fear (Part Three)

I'm perched in my lawnchair, carefully watching over my beloved souvlaki on the grill. It is a beautiful, sunny- albeit slightly chilly- Sunday afternoon. Not unlike so many Easters before, although, the loneliness of this one stands starkly on its own. The slightly charred, lemony scent reminds me of all those Easters spent in grandma and grandpa's backyard, Papa standing over the grill for hours as we delivered plate after plate of meat to be cooked. He stood there with a stoic seriousness on his face, every flip done with intent and precision, every plate handed back with pride.

It's been years now since I've walked into the house and seen his crocs on the floor. Years since I've heard his voice on the other end of the phone; "Eva!" he would call, after asking me how I was. It's been years since he has been outside, grilling, on an Easter Sunday. But, I remember those moments all the same, and miss him all the more. I can only imagine him looking down at me right now, with the same stoic seriousness, urging me on when to flip the souvlaki.

This Easter, I feel as painfully separated from my family as I ever have- a pain I'm sure so many others felt. I was supposed to be home. But not only am I not with them, I'm not with anybody. And so, I suppose I am trying to connect with them through food, memories, and a bit of magic.

Finally, after three days of preparation, I sat down on Sunday evening to eat my Easter Dinner. The roasted lemon potatoes were just crispy enough, the spanakopita the best I’ve ever made, the souvlaki and kofta grilled just right. As I ate, I couldn’t help but wish there was someone beside me, someone else to share all this hard work and love with. Well, I found a way to do just that…

I packaged up my food in aluminum tins (keeping some spanakopita and baklava for myself, of course) and delivered it to three different households: my landlords, my friend across the street, and my bosses. Even just handing it over brought a sense of joy. I was able to see my boss and his young son through the screen door, I was able to say hello to my landlord. And the responses I got afterwards floored me. Although I wasn’t with anybody on Easter Sunday, through food, we were able to share comfort and joy, and that’s pretty magical.

I’ve seen some other pretty wonderful and creative ways to be together and support each other through food during this pandemic. Some restaurants have stayed open for take-out and pick-up, and the response from the community has been amazing. Many people I know order take-out on a weekly basis from a different restaurant. Entire Facebook groups are organizing grocery pick-up and deliveries for those who are sick, immunocompromised, or otherwise. Cafes are offering baking staples to people. Heck, a local restaurant completely turned over their kitchen to make meals for a local community shelter.

I know I am rediscovering a love and passion for food. I’m able to sit down and savour my breakfast, instead of shoving something down my throat and running out the door like a bat out of hell. I can make a nice dinner, and eat it right away. I can try new recipes. And I see people doing the same- baking up a storm, making sourdough bread, you name it.

If we can find a bit of magic in food right now, why can’t we find it in other daily tasks? Sitting down with coffee and a good book, going for a walk, calling your grandma for a chat. I’m learning that magic is everywhere, everyday- we just need to slow down to be able to recognize it.