Feminism in the Kitchen

Today I finished Judy Chicago's excellent 1975 memoir Through the Flower: My Struggle as A Woman Artist and was struck by her repeated statements about the need to be nourished by and to nourish others. She was writing about the kind of emotional nourishment that comes from leading a fulfilling life and, in her case, being part of a community of women who supported each other, collaborated, and shared their ideas and their ideals openly and honestly, but I don't see why we can't also be talking about food. In fact, back in 1972, students in the Feminist Art Program at CalArts (a program co-founded by Chicago and Miriam Schapiro) created a Nurturant Kitchen environment as part of the larger collaborative project Womanhouse. The kitchen links women, reproduction and food, asking us to think about the complex ways these concepts are interwoven and what the ramifications of his interweaving are.

Vickie Hodgetts, Robin Weltsch, and Susan Frazier. Nurturant Kitchen at Womanhouse, 1972.

Food nourishes, everyone know that, and for some of us the act of preparing a meal and sharing it with the people we love nourishes on both a physical and emotional level. But I think things become more interesting (and more complicated) when we start to think about how cooking can be a feminist act.
On her blog Deeply Problematic, Rachel McCarthy James wrote about her feelings that cooking is power, and I'm inclined to agree. Not only does one exert a certain amount of power when choosing what will be consumed and how it will be prepared, but I actually feel powerful when I cook. Cooking involves some serious skill, and when I make bread, some serious muscle. I feel powerful because I'm doing something that I love and that I'm good at. It's kitchen alchemy, and it's incredibly valuable. It feels good to do it.....you know, unless things are inexplicably going wrong and I'm staring at the blender/stovetop/oven etc. yelling "why? Why?!"

I had a trying morning and decided that I wanted to make lunch for my husband and myself--something nice, warm, cheesy, satisfying. I wasn't doing it out of any sort of obligation, but because I know that vital connections are made through everyday acts, and this was my offering to myself and my partner. This was my small way of making today a little bit better and yes, a little more delicious.

Here's what I made:

I call these toasties and I often make them for breakfast, but today decided they'd be great for lunch. These are extremely easy--basically just open-faced toasted sandwiches, but they make you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

The key is in the herb butter. In a small bowl, mix dried parsley and garlic powder (be generous with both), then spread it on each slice of bread. You can put any kind of lunch meat on next, or any number of veggies (or both). I particularly love turkey with either carmelized onions or a slice of ripe tomato. Place a few very thin slices of cheese on top and toast in a toaster oven for about 4 minutes (longer if your bread was frozen to begin with or if the cheese doesn't look melted enough). If you are making a breakfast version, it's great with a fried egg. My advice is not to put the egg in the toaster oven, but to gently slide the cheese up and slip the fried egg underneath it once the sandwich has come out of the toaster oven.

UPDATE: ok, so since thinking about art is what I do for a living, I have been obsessing about this post and I wanted to clarify something. I realize that the women who created the Nurturant Kitchen (and Womanhouse generally) were critiquing the limited roles women had in U.S. society at the time. I don't want it to sound as if I missed or choose to disregard this critique. My feeling, writing several decades after Womanhouse, is that women did need to (and still need to) fight against oppression and one way to do that is by choosing your own path and your own role. In other words, we can make ourselves, and for me, taking on a role in which I get to experiment, make something with my hand, affect chemical reactions, and at the end of it, share what I made with people I love is not a burden, but something I take on willingly and yes, even joyfully.