The Feeder

by Paige Okun

Writers' Block: A contribution from our AWA Writers' Group members

Feed /verb/* Give food to. 

Nourish. Cater for. Supply with material or power. Strengthen. Fortify. Support. Bolster. Reinforce. Boost. Augment. Encourage. Minister to. Prompt. Pass gradually and steadily through a confined space. Influence or contribute to. Have an impact on someone or something. 

I’m a Feeder. In the simplest sense of the word, I love to nourish family and friends with delicious food. My happy place is a big dining table crammed with guests, sharing a meal I’ve taken hours to prepare. The delight, the oohs, and the “You really made this?” fill my heart. The conversations, laughs, and community fill my soul. 

Fortifying those I love, am interested in, and enjoy being around is my meditation.

The modest act of cutting a ripe mango for my husband in the morning is my “I love you, have a great day.” 

The quick Salmon Niçoise tossed up for a girlfriend’s lunch is my “I’m so excited to sit down and catch up.” 

The multi-dish, days-long-prepped, same-every-single-year Christmas Morning Breakfast is my “You are my home. You are safe. I will love and protect you no matter what.”

My inbox overflows with recipe newsletters and food blogs. I wake up thinking about what I can cook for dinner, plan trips around Michelin-starred restaurants, and find it impossible to have a deep conversation without food being involved. 

My older son and I have a WhatsApp chat that is 90% food photos and shared vegan recipes. The connection over food supports our relationship and has saved it more than once. 

My younger son texts me detailed lists of meals and snacks he’d “really, really like to have” when he travels home from university. Nothing too complicated—Southwestern Cobb Salad, mac & cheese with a side of broccoli, Double Chocolate Muffins, baked salmon. For him, a little bit of comfort. For me, a simple ministry.

Feeding is how I respond to joy and sorrow.

I’ve delivered cheesy-chicken-spinach-casseroles for births and miscarriages. I send guests home from dinner parties with a morning hug of cinnamon-almond granola. 

On 9/11, people just started turning up at my home for dinner. As a working mom of a one-year-old, I could barely keep cereal in the cupboard. But, somehow, friends just knew I was going to cook to keep calm. I don’t remember what we ate. But I do remember sitting in community with a platter of something on my Washington, DC, back deck with a bunch of babies in bouncy seats, trying to make sense of the world. 

I over-cater every meal—big occasion or daily dinner. 

After Thanksgiving or Christmas, nobody leaves empty-handed. For a few years, I even made extra ham because one year we ate it all. I was distraught that people would think I didn’t love them enough to prepare extra food. I will never be caught short again. 

That insistence on over-catering encouraged my boys to invite a friend or two—or an entire basketball team—home for lunch or dinner, unannounced. I love a hoard of growing boys teasing and tumbling like puppies through the house, leaving the chaos of empty quesadilla platters, fruit bowls, and juice glasses in their wake.

As girlfriends appeared, their first meal with us was never a big deal. Dinners were easygoing and a way to connect in our busy lives. The boys naturally assumed eating would make it more comfortable for everyone. And it did.

Easing into a life for two in our empty nest means cutting back on the over-catering. I still make enough for the next day’s lunch, just in case my husband is working from home. But I’ve had to learn that I don’t need to make eight salmon fillets, three crowns of broccoli, and two pounds of sweet potatoes for dinner. Nobody wants salmon on day four! Yet even simple dinners strengthen and nourish our relationship as we sit together, catching up over our too-big dining table. 

Inevitably, our talk turns to “What meals are you home for this week?”

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	After working as a communications consultant, writer, and editor for multinational companies and nonprofit organizations for 35 years, Paige Okun is easing into peri-retirement. A passionate home cook, she dabbles in recipe development, plays way too much tennis, and loves to travel. She’s been an AWA member for over 22 years. See her writing and recipes on Substack at Turn the Paige.
	The AWA Writers’ Group meets the second and fourth Thursday of each month. For more information, send an email to writers@awasingapore.org   "If there is a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it" Toni Morrison