humanity

Humanity topics include pieces on the real lives of chefs, professionals, amateurs, inspiring youth, influencers, and general feel good human stories in the Feast food sphere.

butter
At one point or another, most of my family has had some sort of dietary restriction. My sister was vegan for a while, my mother is mostly vegan currently and I don't eat meat and can't process most dairy. However, everyone forgets they have dietary restrictions at Christmas when my mom makes cinnamon rolls.
By Catherine5 years ago in Feast
Food for the Soul
Growing up I’ve always felt like an orphan. I knew who my parents were, however, they were not around to raise me. I was fortunate to have my grandmother, Madea (short for Mother Dear). Madea carried a silent strength. She never raised her voice, but you knew when she meant business and when she cooked, he was about her business.
By NaTyshca Pickett5 years ago in Feast
Food for my soul
I have never been a cook, in fact I've never striven to become one either. The whole ordeal exhausts me even thinking about it. Some things will never change. When I was young one of the biggest things my parents wanted to teach me were cooking, learning Chinese and grow up to have my own family. It looks like I failed at all three of the basic wishes of my parents. Still there's something about cooking rice that brings me back to the good old days.
By Brian Anonymous5 years ago in Feast
Eat In With M
There’s nothing to do. I am getting bored after playing a lot of scrabble or solitaire. I glanced out my window...... The weather seemed welcoming: Hot Sun, noonday rain and a cool breeze. I hesitated to leave home. People began to walk past your house when you decide maybe to take a scroll. I usually jog down to the corner store. Italian food is a favorite.
By Pearl Thomas5 years ago in Feast
Cathy’s place
What did I just do! Ever since I was little I wanted to own a restaurant. I used to spend hours in my grandmothers kitchen making cakes and cookies, narrating like I was on the cooking channel. I am sure I must have given my family a lot of laughs, but they always encouraged me and my love for all things food. As I grew into my teenage years I did that thing all kids do, I stopped pursuing my uncool hobbies to better fit in with the popular kids. Always complaining when I was forced to help bake cookies for Christmas but secretly glad to have the excuse. I think it hurt my grandma a little when I pulled away from cooking, it was what we bonded over when I was little and watching me deny it felt like I was denying her. I stayed that way, in a holding pattern, for a long time. Until my life tumbled upside down and I finally got the push I needed to move away from my oppressive hometown. It was hard for a few years, working long hours for poor pay, learning what freeway traffic really was, trying to deal with the fallout of old relationships and the struggle of a new city. That really took me away from cooking, it took me away from everything. I was sad and angry and scared. We were so broke we had a roommate in our one bedroom apartment and we spent 9 months without a table or chairs. All of my passions fell off the radar of life for several years, until finally we started to learn how to manage our new life. We got new jobs, a better house, and some furniture. We had time again, and energy to take care of our souls. It started slowly for me, making old recipes from home, a comfort meal here, a batch of cookies there. Things to make the house smell good, flavors that brought me joy. I didn’t experiment much in the early days, just cooking what I knew would be delicious. As we found our footing and worked our way into our dreams I got bolder. Adding my own ingredients to my grandmother’s spaghetti recipes, tasting things I was scared of, using Christmas as a time to experiment on my friends. I never really thought it would go any deeper than that, I figured cooking would always be where I found my peace, something I would pass on to my kids and grandkids, to add a little joy into the world. Then the world spiraled.
By Clementine Brown5 years ago in Feast
Jane and the Cup of Coffee
Jane is a busy college student. Every morning she stops by Mel’s, the little college town diner that also happens to be the closest place to get her morning caffeine fix. She runs through the door, which rings as she opens it, and grabs a cup of coffee. She allows herself to spend no more than two minutes at the diner; she is only there to grab her caffeine fix and get moving. Jane usually requests one or two espresso shots in her order, and she always takes it in a to-go cup. Running to class strictly on schedule, she sips her caffeine through the plastic top.
By Reese Marie5 years ago in Feast
The Sauce of Life
The lights from the old, rusted diner sign flickered obnoxiously in the dark sky, like a beckoning call to those sleepily traveling the lonely highway roads. Had the worn sign not been so annoyingly distracting, I may not have noticed it and pulled off the highway and out of my frustrated state of mind.
By Brittney K5 years ago in Feast
Barista&Coffee story
BARISTA STORY A barista is an espresso machine “coffee artist” who has extensive knowledge about coffee and prepares, decorates and serves drinks to the customer. Barista is the Italian word for barkeeper. The Italian plural form is baristi for male or bariste for female. The term was initially adopted in English, where its meaning changed. While a barista in Italy serves all kinds of drinks, the term in English-speaking countries refers to an individual who prepares and serves espresso-based drinks with an air of professionalism, primarily in coffee shops.
By Potato5 years ago in Feast
Meat!
”Hey, I’m here, can you bring the food outside?” “Sure.” I said. I had most of it packed already, just needed to take the perishables out of the fridge.
By Nicole B6 years ago in Feast
DAD'S DELICIOUS CHICKEN
Nearly twenty years ago I went to my friend's home for a visit. As he opened the front door, I was met with a wonderful aroma that wafted up to my nose “What’s that smell?” I enquired. “Are you cooking or is it the Misses?”. “Oh it’s me” my friend Eddie answered. “Really, what are you cooking, it smells great?” “It’s my Creole Chicken, come on through and I’ll show you how it’s done". So I followed him into his kitchen and sat myself down on top of a tall white stool. “Right Albert, get comfy, I’m going to show you exactly how to cook ‘Creole Chicken’ using my grandma’s secret recipe”. “I’m comfy, but you’ll write down the ingredients for me when you’ve done, if that’s okay, not sure I'll remember” “Well, we’ll see because I don’t tell anyone, not the wife, the kids, family or friends; nobody knows what seasoning goes in; I’ll have to kill you if you find out, I’m only joking. “Oh, I’m glad to hear that! I could sit in the lounge with the kids until you’ve done” I suggested. “No, no it’ll be okay. Albert, you will be the first person on planet earth that I’ve told, let alone shown how to cook it. I don’t know why but I feel led to share it with you, but you have not to tell anyone, not even your misses”. “Okay, I won’t” I answered.
By Albert Andre6 years ago in Feast
Best Salmon Cakes Ever
I grew up in a large single-parent family. My mother cooked a lot of mackerels but never salmon because mackerels were cheaper and could be stretched further in a stew to feed ten children. Therefore, I never had salmon cakes when I was growing up. After the children grew up and left that southern country town, my siblings learned to make salmon cakes, but I never gave it a thought until recently. I heard them talking about how good salmon cakes are.
By Margaret Minnicks6 years ago in Feast
Four Recipes to Bake While Supporting Black Lives.
The past week has been one of the most heart heavy, stressful weeks in my 23 years of living. As a black woman, today's news stories have continued to affect me mentally in negative ways as more and more information is brought to light on the current police state we seem to be living in.
By Sam Sanon6 years ago in Feast