When I was a child, Summer was a magical time, and I ran barefoot over the blazing hot roads of my neighborhood, my hands sticky from picking wild dewberries in the vacant lot one street over. I remember spending long afternoons covered head to toe in mud from my grandmother's garden as we helped her bring in wave after wave of zucchini, tomatoes, okra, peppers, carrots, then potatoes...meanwhile my grandfather tended his bees, leaving a row of jars filled with dripping honeycomb that glowed amber in the unrelenting sunlight. In that part of Texas, there were fields of tall corn so sweet you could eat it raw standing among the plants.
Here in the Austin area Summer still makes me think of growing things to eat. The farmers' markets do a booming business during tomato season, and just about every juicy and ripe form of fruit and vegetable you can think of finds its way to the stands. Even at Whole Foods and Central Market, local produce gets the spotlight, and every bell pepper contains within it the sun, soil, and labor of its birth.
And so, despite the heat, Midsummer for me is a kitchen Goddess's festival. It's a Sabbat of fruit salads and stir-fries, of spicy curry and warm vanilla.
As a person with food issues, and as a person whose chosen diet is a bit unconventional, I find that cooking for myself is a daunting, and often depressing, prospect. I frequently have to remind myself that I am worth the effort, and that my health is worth a bit of chopping and measuring. I don't always succeed in convincing myself--this year so far I've done a pretty dreadful job of managing my health and my eating habits--but like any worthwhile pursuit, it's a process, not an all-or-nothing.
Having fallen so completely off the wagon of my own food pyramid (that would be one funky-looking wagon), I decided that I would take this holiday season to rededicate the part of my home that is most vital to ensuring my health and well-being when it comes to my body: the kitchen.
I started this a week ago, actually, with a full-on cleansing (and scrubbing) and smudging of the kitchen, including every cabinet, drawer, and shelf. Given that my kitchen is on the smallish side, this wasn't as huge a feat as it may sound. By the time I'd finished, what started as one evening's magical work had become a series of rituals centered around the Sabbat.
The kitchen is a metaphor for the body's life in general, I've noticed. If you use it at all, it needs constant care. There's always a mess to clean up, and what you put into it is what you get out of it. Fill your fridge with organic vegetables, or fill it with nothing but beer and condiments, regardless, you can open the door and see at a glance what kind of treatment your body is getting (unless you're one of the lucky few who can afford to eat out at good restaurants every meal).
Like life, cooking is a practice: the alchemy of fire, work, and good things from Mother Earth. Eating is one of the most basic, and most sacred, activities we engage in, and we do it every day. It's no surprise that so many rituals and celebrations revolve around food. What would a birthday be without cake?
Unfortunately eating has lost a lot of its sanctity in our busy, empty-calorie world. It's hard to appreciate the holiness of the meal that nourishes you if you're cramming french fries in your mouth while driving.
(If you really want to scare yourself, watch the documentary Super Size Me, or read the book Fast Food Nation.)
Having cleansed the kitchen, and consecrated it to my health and healing, I turned my attention to an area that has been sadly neglected this year, my little kitchen altar. Up until now it's been a shelf with a couple of dusty items on it, and I'm sad to say I haven't done much with it since I first hung it up. Altars, too, are a powerful metaphor for our lives.
I stripped it bare, and reconsidered what was on it. Even once I'd found an arrangement that seemed right, and added some new things, it didn't feel finished.
Inspiration struck. I decided that from now on, Midsummer would be a kitchen holiday in my house, starting with this year, when I would make something new to hang above the altar. I dug out my box of Sculpey, cast a Circle, and went to town.
The result is what you see in the picture below: my new and improved kitchen altar. My plan is that for the Solstice itself I will cook a special feast in my newly-rededicated kitchen, charging each ingredient with the health and well-being I so desperately need at this time in my life. Some years I may hold a grand feast for my friends, but this year I feel it is fitting to focus on my own healing.
(click on the pic for a better view)
For the curious, the items on the altar are:
1 ~ A wood tasting spoon I found at Whole Foods; I believe it's from the Mario Batali line, but I loved its shape and its size, and anointed it as a magical tool.
2 ~ A chef Witch figure I made, oh, probably six or seven years ago back when I was in culinary school. It was the first Sculpey thing I ever made, and I've always had a soft spot for it even though her face is kind of scary. I love her little hat.
3 ~ Tiny bowls (about 1 1/2" across) of Hawaiian sea salt and water.
4 ~ A green votive candle holder to burn whenever I'm cooking--lighting the candle signals the beginning of the ritual, to remind me that what I'm doing is sacred even if it's just a frozen pot pie.
5 ~ A vial of kitchen anointing oil I blended to add to my cleaning water. It's a mixture of lemon, lavender, rosemary, and mint oils, in a base of sweet almond. All are purifying oils with a clean, not overpowering scent.
6 ~ My ceramic cow is my vegan charm, which actually could use renewal as well. I think he's supposed to be a mini creamer, but I keep a rolled-up piece of parchment in him that states my intentions toward a vegan lifestyle.
7 ~ The plaque hanging over the altar is what I spent all day yesterday making. It is, as I said, made of Sculpey, a brand of polymer clay which is baked in the oven to harden. I'm going to put a cardboard and felt backing on her to add some stability, as Sculpey is notoriously fragile, but I wanted to hang her up and see how the whole thing looked together. I may in fact end up moving the entire altar someplace a little less precarious; right now, there' s a cabinet door that could potentially destroy the plaque if opened too hard. I am, however, quite pleased with how she came out. (And yes, her face is blank on purpose. I always sculpt deities without faces. It's a thing I do.)
If you're interested in learning more about kitchen and cooking magic, and the concept of treating the kitchen as sacred space, here are some books I highly recommend. (Note that there are lots more out there, especially cookbooks and more general "house magic" type books, but these are the only ones I have read myself and loved.)
A Witch in the Kitchen by Cait Johnson (my absolute favorite)
Tomato Blessings and Radish Teachings by Edward Espe Brown
The Inner Art of Vegetarianism by Carol J. Adams (this is the only book on this list specifically related to vegetarianism)
Shelter for the Spirit by Victoria Moran
Sabbat Entertaining by Willow Polson
Cooking By Moonlight: a Witch's Guide to Culinary Magic by Karri Allrich
Art of the Inner Meal by Donald Altman
Cunningham's Encyclopedia of Wicca in the Kitchen by Scott Cunningham
There may end up being more kitcheny-witchery posts here; I'd forgotten how much I enjoy this sort of thing.
Fantastico! Most large wonderfulness! Big wheeeehoooeee! and a YES!
Very cool ideas, woman. You are so creative! I'm posting a link to this over at a solitary wicca LJ I'm on.
Thank you very much for sharing :-)
Rose Welsh
Posted by: Rose | June 20, 2007 at 02:44 PM
I really resonated with this post. I've been having very similar thoughts of late, with the exception of not going vegan. But taking care of myself, yes indeed. This post inspires me to do something I was considering last weekend and now I really plan on following through with it.
And I just love your darling little plaque.
Cynthia in Seattle
Posted by: Cynthia | June 20, 2007 at 02:48 PM
Oh, she's just beautiful. Thanks for sharing.
Posted by: Laura | June 20, 2007 at 04:11 PM
Your plaque is fantastic! I love it and definitely appreciate the book recommendations.
thanks for sharing :)
Posted by: bug | June 20, 2007 at 04:42 PM
The plaque is great! So are the witch and the cow. I'm trying to really focus on what I eat and how I cook also. You've inspired me to clean up my kitchen area and rework my small altar too.
Posted by: Heather | June 21, 2007 at 04:57 AM
How beautiful! I love your new plaque! It is really gorgeous!
May I also recommend a glorious book about the sacredness of cooking, called "Serving Fire: Food for Thought, Body and Soul" by Anne Scott? I have found it so full of peace and inspiration.
Litha blessings!
Posted by: Beth Owls Daughter | June 21, 2007 at 06:32 AM
I love the plaque you made. And thanks for the list of kitchen witch books.
Posted by: Cathy | June 21, 2007 at 07:17 AM
I keep coming back and rereading this post (actually, I do that with many of your posts). I love how you took the holiday and made it your own, and the plaque is wonderful! I tend to associate Lammas more with cooking and the kitchen, so I will be coming back here to implement some of your ideas later in the summer.
Thank you for so much inspiration, and thank you for the list of recommended books. I've been wanting a kitchen witch book for a few years, but was never sure which one to get.
Posted by: Joanna | June 21, 2007 at 01:22 PM
Your Sculpey is so adorable! Now I want to make some!
Posted by: Jennifer | June 21, 2007 at 02:14 PM
That placque is just fabulous!!! The thought of doing something that intricate is just so intimidating!!
Mama Kelly
Posted by: mama kelly | June 22, 2007 at 05:31 PM