There is something about the simple act of sharing a meal with friends and family that makes you realize how important the culture of food is in the world. We pause for a moment during our rushed and hurried days, reconnecting over simple things like roast chickens and peach cobblers. And in those moments, bonds are made, news is shared, friendships are nurtured.
As a food blogger, I am acutely aware of the importance of the community surrounding a meal. This is partially because of the difficulty my job presents at actually being fully present at a meal. I am forever rearranging the table, checking the light, moving things for the shot, standing, sitting, and checking screens before I sit, relax, share, and eat. But the enjoyment I get in celebrating this cornerstone of community and foundation of family is really the story I am trying to tell as a human.
Whether over business or pleasure, community is made around the table. Recently, myself and a few other blogger friends bonded over a fantastic meal at the Dewberry – Charleston’s much-anticipated, freshly-opened, can-still-smell-the-paint-on-the-walls hotel slap in the center of town. After a grand tour of this beautiful space, we all sat for a lovely meal at Henrietta’s – the little French Brasserie located on the first floor facing Marion Square – where I stood up, sat down, rearranged, moved and photographed some of the city’s newest and best food. But I don’t remember that. I remember eating, laughing sharing and talking. I remember the community.
While sampling a delicious meal of Keegan-Filion Farms Whole Roast Chicken, I reminisced with my our new community of bloggers of comfort meals at the kitchen table, our mom’s all squarely at the helm of their 1980s kitchens. The Buttery Whipped Potatoes made us exchange recipes and concepts of how to make our own mashed potatoes at home so light and dreamy without having them come from a box. The medley of heirloom tomatoes had me waxing poetic about my nana’s backyard garden and her gorgeous French collecting basket while the others chimed in about backyard gardens and farms they grew up on. Stories were exchanged. Laughs were had. Dates for the next lunch were being penciled in.
With each course came out a new memory. With each story, a new bond was made. We were happily coming together in the name of blogging and new friendship. But I am sure it was the breaking of bread that formed a lifetime of laughs ahead of us and at least a few more dinner dates. I can’t wait to see what’s for dinner next time.