Kitchen Altars
Reclaiming the Science, Soul, and Magic of Homemaking
Thesis: The kitchen acts as my command center. Here the act of cooking transforms into a radical practice of honoring my ancestors, securing my future, and defiantly claiming my right to a full belly, joy, and rest in a world that has often denied Black women such basic dignities.
The First Bite of Memory
My mama would always burn the top of the sweet potato pie. Just a little. She’d always say it wasn’t done if it wasn’t burnt. I remember when I made the pie for the first time and I decided to take it out before it burnt and unfortunately she was right. It didn’t taste right without those few scarce burn spots on the top of the pie. And funnily enough it never smelled burnt. The longer it cooked the stronger the sweet smell of sweet potato filled the kitchen. The smell was so strong it’d move from room to room. Granted our home was pretty small so it was never hard for that smell of butter and sugar to find you no matter what room you were in. My mama only ever made this pie for the holidays so in my mind it’s extra special almost magical. Especially because the first bite of the pie would instantly change the mood and atmosphere, for the better of course. It’s this memory of my mothers burnt sweet potato pie that influences my experiences and perception of food.
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For me, food, for better or worse, is connected to every facet of my life. If there is something to celebrate I think, “What delicious meal am I going to have to commemorate this moment?” If there is something to worry about I think, “What delicious meal am I going to have to sooth me in this moment?” If I am upset or angry I think, “What delicious meal am I going to have to quell my emotions?” It’s never been just fuel for me. Food has always been something that lifts me up and can perfectly represent my mood or the occasion.
Food has always been more than sustenance it’s identity, memory, and meaning. People smarter than me have long recognized this connection between nourishment and culture. As one study notes, “Food is said to be one of the significant cultural traits that reflects the identity and the nature of people in a society” (Mohan).
Food, water, shelter, and air are the basic human needs, but according to anthropologist Bronislaw Malinowski, food is both a biological and a social need one that shapes entire communities through “the activities related to food production, consumption, and distribution.” In other words, the way we eat tells the story of who we are and what we value.
And the first bite is always the most important. Have you ever heard that first impressions are important? That’s how vital that first bite is. It’s the difference between falling in love or choking in misery.
In trying to prepare for the uncertainty of the future my biggest concern has been food. Not just making sure I have food but making sure I have food that is good. Delicious. Food that comforts, celebrates, and connects. This is a non-negotiable for me and it’s a part of my survival plan. Therefore the kitchen is where I practice my most vital devotion.
The Sacred Space, The Kitchen as Altar and Armory
Admittedly I am slob. I hate cleaning especially the dishes. That’s why my first act of defiance is a clean, organized, and well-stocked kitchen. I am motivated by my overactive imagination where I view my kitchen as an altar where I can perform the alchemy of transformation and an armory against scarcity. It means that I am always ready. Ready to comfort myself. Ready to nourish my family. And ready to extend care to my community.
A clean and organized kitchen helps to make me prepared to create delicious meals. Who wants to eat food from someone in a dirty messy kitchen? Also, how can I honor myself if I continuously allow my altar, my kitchen, to fall into disarray? So while I do not like or enjoy cleaning, I take up the task of ensuring my kitchen is neat and clean every day.
In times of scarcity people are more concerned with nourishment than flavor or finding comfort in food. I think of WWII where widespread food rationing was occurring in the U.S., U.K., and much of Europe. Certain ingredients like meat, sugar, butter, and eggs were extremely limited so families had to stretch what they had and get creative. Unfortunately their creativity lead to some strange meals like Jell-O with fish in it and a bunch of weirdo mayo recipes like mayo cakes or mayo salads (yucky!). While I understand people had to do what they could to survive I want a fully stocked and prepped kitchen to ensure I don’t have to result to such….creativity. I am not looking for five-star luxurious meals! But the reality is a well prepared and delicious meal can provide comfort extending to the will to live if made properly! It’s like a spell that can provide strength to anyone who casts it.
Now let’s factor in Domestic Artistry. This becomes a survival skill where the knowledge lets me take a few ingredients and conjure a meal that doesn’t just fill and feed the hungry but nourishes the soul. In my eyes, a well stocked kitchen equals power, foresight, and calm. A well stock kitchen is like a spell of security. And the way that I set my space when I am conjuring in the kitchen is by lighting candles, playing a playlist and even try to pleasantly arrange my ingredients like offerings. I draw inspiration from my ancestors who were able to take even dismissed scraps and work what seemed like magic and create a delicious meal. And then I practice the alchemy of transformation. I’ve begun to see cooking as chemistry; as a scientific transmutation of raw material into life-giving nourishment!
The Soul Food Sabbath, Reclaiming Nourishment
Soul food for me has never been something that I’ve eaten regularly. My mama would make staple soul food dishes, like mac & cheese, sweet potato pie, and fried pork chops. She would make these things only for special occasions, which was normally around the holidays. So in my mind, Soul Food is something very special for special occasions only. So I use it as a means to connect more with my ancestors and understand my grandmother and all the ancestors before her. I decided to start a Soul food garden!
It’s one thing to eat this food, but to grow the food that my ancestors brought with them on slave ships and the same food that was once considered scraps from slave masters are now staples in African-American cuisine this is all very exciting to me.
As one scholar notes, “For a food with such humble beginnings, soul food has traveled quite the journey. Its roots are in Africa, and later the food was adapted with cabin cooking techniques” (Penn). What began as survival has become a symbol of pride, resilience, and identity. “Soul food also symbolizes a people, a movement, a way of life… it epitomized the culinary genius and inventiveness of the African-American woman who could take the sparse leavings from the master’s table and whip up a meal strong enough to sustain the family through the long plantation workdays” (Penn).
When I prepare my Soul Food Sabbath meal, I will be tapping into that same lineage of transformation, the alchemy of turning scarcity into celebration.
And so once my garden has come into fruition and harvested, I will take the produce and have a Soul Food meal which I will enjoy for a Soul Food Sabbath! Growing my garden has been therapeutic planning. My soul food menu has been exciting and I cannot wait to rest on the Soul Food Sabbath. On this Special Sabbath day rest will be so important to me. To stand in my kitchen and cook a beautiful, intentional meal for myself is a radical act. It is a declaration that my comfort, my palate, my joy, are valuable. It is the ultimate practice of being your own emergency contact.”
Homemakers are often expected to work and sacrifice for others, even to the point of exhaustion with little to no reward or recognition. It is not fair all of the work that is done in the home by women, even the work that was done by our ancestors, was never appreciated and was taken for granted. So on that Sabbath day, I will rest and enjoy the fruits of my literal labor. I will think of my ancestors and honor them with every bite and with every feeling of relaxation and joy and I hope they will join me on this day and we will relax together. I feel like the soul food meal that I make will conjure something special on that day. This is the magic of Domestic Artistry a meal, not just to feed myself or even my family, but the meal can draw in even our ancestors. I am planning to do this towards the end of the year maybe around my birthday so that I can feel renewed and invigorated and supported by my ancestors into the new year. It will be a prayer and remembrance and my commitment that the legacy of my ancestors or great and divine homemakers before me will not die with me.
The Politics of the Plate, Who Gets to Eat Well?
I ask you now. In a system shaped by poverty, racism, and capitalism, who gets to eat well? Who has the time, the resources, the peace to cook a slow, simpering meal? Who is allowed to rest after eating it? The comforts we once had are quickly fading away and becoming overly expensive and out of reach. Growing and preserving food is a direct rejection of dependence on systems that were put in place to betray us. The question of who gets to be fed is about who receives care. To be fed is to be valued. To have the space to feed yourself well is to claim your right to that care for yourself. My stocked pantry and my cooking skills are my personal insurrection against a system that would see me go hungry, or worse, never know the deep joy of a meal made with love and intention.
Homemakers are going to be needed more than ever as our gloomy future looms for us. The ability to make something from nothing to turn scraps into a delectable meal will be skills legally sought after. The homemaker’s before us were experts in taking whatever they could find and creating lasting comforting memories through delicious food.
A Simmering Rebellion
I like to think of the meals that I make with intention and gratitude as a way to honor the women who taught me survival through flavor. Stocking my pantry is a way to create a buffer against uncertainty and potential food scarcity. When I cook from scratch, I am speaking the language of my ancestors’; their native tongue. When I sit down and enjoy a meal I made for myself I am defying a history of self-sacrifice. This is my simmering rebellion. I like to view rest as nourishment. It’s my refusal to burn out.
Psychologists and cultural researchers have been able to shown how deeply food connects to our sense of self and mental well-being. “Food contributes to an individual’s physical and mental well-being and expresses one’s cultural identity through preparation, sharing, and consumption… Inadequate access to cultural foods can create cultural stress and affect one’s identity and well-being” (Wright et al.).
That’s why this practice, cooking from scratch, eating slowly, savoring the memories that come with each dish, isn’t just about survival. It’s about protecting my spirit, maintaining my cultural identity, and claiming joy as a human right. That’s why I’m excited to take part on this journey of becoming a homemaker! This is something that homemakers as Domestic Artists already know and understand.
The future I am working to prepare for myself is one where I may not have much but I will always have my ancestors guiding my hands to create a nourishing and delicious meals. This isn’t just survival. It is soul work. And I am ready.