I’ve often wondered if those 6 words might just be one of the most uttered phrases in any relationship.
Having caught up on some (long overdue) reading lately, I’ve had my nose stuck into The Gastronomy Of Marriage by Michelle Maisto for the better part of the past week, a tale which attempts to answer that exact question.
I’d first heard about the book back in December, while combing through one of many ‘makes a great gift for a foodie’ guides that tend to present themselves right before the holidays. The summary made the story sound interesting enough, so I’d earmarked it on my Chapters wish list and then forgotten all about it. While at the bookstore returning a duplicate gift after Christmas, I’d spied the bright veg on its cover and was inspired to take it home.
I’m not entirely certain what it is about the photo, but there’s something romantic, sensual, yet poignantly sad about those 2 crooked gourds wrapped around each other. Perhaps I’m just full of silly sentimentality, but to me it evokes an us-against-the-world feel which doggedly tugs upon my heartstrings.
Throughout the story, Maisto explores the link between family and food and how they influence our personal opinions of what makes a suitable meal (or comfortable life), all against the backdrop of her impending marriage. Combining the single households of Italian American Maisto and her Chinese American husband prior to their nuptials often produces comical results.
Where she likes her peanut butter refrigerator-cold and crunchy, he swoons for room temperature smooth. In sickness her version of comfort is pastina (an Italian semolina gruel) and cuddles, while he prefers the squishy blandness of congee and solitude. The story is peppered with many examples of their incongruities and the various ways in which Maisto tries to make them fit without losing ground (or herself) in the process.
Like any relationship that involves the blending of households for the first time, there are many surprises and even a few rude awakenings along the way. To help pay for their wedding her husband-to-be offers to take on more freelance work, leaving Maisto offering to pick up the kitchen slack. Little does she know at the outset how fraught that task will be. At the beginning she steadfastly assures the both of them that her kitchen duty is merely temporary, but by the end she realizes that asserting herself in the kitchen might have unknowingly been her intention all along.
Maisto’s also a vegetarian, and while attuned to her significant others’ needs, at times she feels chastised and limited by her role as chief cook and bottle washer, at which points hilarity ensues. There’s even a point in the book where her husband remarks on how much easier life would be if she just ate meat. Having a world of differences between their upbringings, she often finds it hard to bridge the gap to a meal that is nourishing and soul-satisfying to both, while still making it nutritionally complete for him. But a deal is a deal, so throughout the story she learns how to live up to her end of the bargain while coming to terms with the true meaning of compromise.
This really rang true for me, and even mirrored my relationship with the Everyman in places. At the end of a long day, sometimes there’s nothing I hate more than coming home and trying to have a conversation about what would make a mutually agreeable dinner. Being the primary cook in the house, I’m often left to do just that, and like Maisto I also express my love for others through food; striving to produce something that will make people happy. But sometimes it can be exhausting and you just want to throw in the towel and say enough is enough. After reading this I’ve come to realize there is a light at the end of the tunnel and it just so happens to be a certain shade of gratitude.
The Gastonomy Of Marriage is a lovely, unadorned memoir. While the writing isn’t overly sophisticated, Maisto does have a certain charm for drawing her readers in, not to mention sprinkling bits of MFK Fisher’s wisdom throughout. Plus, she taught me where the name of Judith Jones’ memoir The Tenth Muse took its name from (a muse known as Gasterea). And it reminds us all that food is love, and there’s certainly nothing wrong with a healthy dose of that.
Until next time…
Tags: Books, Cooking, Judith Jones, Michelle Maisto, Reviews, The Gastronomy Of Marriage, The Tenth Muse
