I’m eight years old and walking into my family’s apartment. Inside my boots my toes are numb from my five-block trek home from school. Not much warmer inside; our landlord isn’t too generous with heat, even in the middle of January. My face feels stiff from the cold, but I smile seeing my mom walking to the kitchen table, the steaming bowl in her hands. The pasta e fagioli (traditional Italian pasta soup with beans) is piping hot and fragrant. This dish, or “fazool,” as my dad referred to it, was one of his specialty meals throughout my childhood.
As I dig into the thick, creamy stew with the small pasta tubes, called ditalini, my hands, heart, and soul are warmed. Between mouthfuls, I inhale the slightly sweet and tangy tomato base flavored with garlic chunks and oregano. Just these few simple ingredients send my chill packing. Fast forward to today, this dish is a winter staple and comforts me as it always has.
Comfort Food
From mac and cheese to Mallomars, comfort food occupies a special category among all the other foods we eat. While we need to eat to survive, we also need the foods that have the power to calm us and to help set aside our worries, if only for the time it takes to consume. Comfort foods go beyond mere taste. What sets comfort foods apart from our usual intake are the additional ingredients of pleasant memories, of being cared for, of a food prepared with love by someone special (including ourselves) for the purpose of soothing.
Comfort food must be hearty, with enough strength to match the heaviness of heart we are experiencing. It’s simple, minimal ingredient food; neither haute cuisine, nor calorie spare lean meals. It’s therapy in every bowl and bite. Our relationship with comfort food is usually a lifelong one. Foods that brought us comfort though childhood and the heartbreaks of adulthood typically remain our “go-to” choices.
Mouthwatering Memories
When I was little two foods especially took the sting out of being sick, whether from chicken pox, or a simple cold. My mother was not the most successful cook (she would be the first to admit this), yet there was nothing better when I felt physically crummy than her beet soup, ruby red in color, thickened with potatoes and sweetened with a touch of cream, or a bowl of pastina, tiny star-shaped pasta that she prepared with salted butter and Parmesan cheese. Even though my stuffy nose prevented smelling or fully tasting anything, the smooth textures comforted my scratchy throat, convincing me all would be better soon. My mouth waters even as I think of these dishes! Whereas my mom’s roster of meals wasn’t too varied, I was fortunate to grow up with grandmas from Italian and Eastern European cultures. My childhood was filled with the dishes of their native countries. Of these dishes, arancini (Sicilian rice balls) and pierogi (Polish dumplings) are two of my favorite comfort foods to this day.
I recall the aromas of garlic, dill, and tomatoes simmering; the involved prep and number of steps in creating both recipes. It’s not difficult to conjure up the taste of the short-grain rice shells, coated in Parmesan and Romano cheeses, and filled with peas and a tomato-based sauce, then rolled in breadcrumbs before being fried in olive oil to a golden-brown finish. Memories of the variously flavored pierogi, some stuffed with mild farmer cheese or ricotta, others filled with mushrooms or boiled potatoes, sizzling in butter and caramelized onions, are equally easy to summon.
Wide-ranging, Enduring Tradition
As with any cooking, the entire experience counts toward our enjoyment. And comfort food isn’t necessarily restricted to what we tasted in our own families but with our friends too. When my best friend and I were stressed with homework, a plate of her mom’s steaming rice and beans got us back on track. When either of us suffered the indignities of unrequited love, the other showed up to listen and break out the Häagen Dasz®. Baking bread, or making pizza with my sister-friend, brings the comfort of knowing we will always have each other’s back. Experiencing the joy of comfort food also means carrying on the tradition. A tight embrace and gentle words, accompanied by his favorite apples and cinnamon oatmeal, or frosty glass of lemonade, went a long way toward comforting my young son, from his simple cuts and scrapes to his once life-threatening illness.
Indulging All the Senses
Along with the act of preparing food, where the cooking takes place matters to our memories. My grandmothers’ kitchens, each tiny rooms with steamed windows and old-fashioned appliances and utensils, provided a cozy nest for sampling their creations. Experiencing the colors and textures of the ingredients, listening to them sing the folk songs of their birthplaces, and the hug they served together with the finished dish, were cherished bonuses. These extras, like the jelly donuts or pistachio biscotti they made for special occasions—like my birthday—are etched in my brain, as well as my taste buds.
These days, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, and try to watch the carbs, but exceptions must be allowed, especially when it relates to our comfort foods. As my Italian grandparents used to say, “Un piatto di pasta ti farà stare meglio.” (“A plate of pasta will make you better.”)