Ciao and Chow

Last year, I was lucky enough to become acquainted with a delightful professor of Italian. I helped Marie with revisions to Italian department curriculum, and she in turn gifted me friendship and food.

The woman is a wizard in the kitchen. She cooks, bakes, and is the only person I know who makes gelato. Saying she makes gelato is hugely understating what she does. She has studied, invested, and practiced to the point that she’s a true gelato artist. Marie called my office one afternoon, “I have the gelato. I’ll bring it over just before five so you can get it home and in the freezer.” She breezed in with her infectious smile and enthusiasm, and left me two quarts of her heavenly creations–baklava and coconut. Yeah, baklava gelato. I can’t even.

Last week, she popped in to say hello. We chatted briefly and, as is typical of our interactions, I came away smarter. We talked about student success, the Italian greeting ‘ciao,’ and food. And she shared this gem. Humans are the only primates that regularly practice non-kinship food sharing, meaning we voluntarily and with no expectation of reward give food to people outside of our family circles.

What a delightful practice this is! I immediately thought of neighbors who’ve gifted me tomatoes from their gardens, co-workers who’ve shared homemade salsa and baked goods, fellow church-goers who’ve invited me to their homes for dinner. Associated with all these moments are feelings of welcome, belonging, generosity, friendship, openness. The gift of food is laden with attendant gifts of love. And aren’t they the more impactful and nourishing portion of the gift?

I’ll be thinking about all this the next time I make cookies and plate some up to (non-kinship) share. And I’ll most definitely be thinking of it when Marie brings me the focaccia she promised. It will, no doubt, be deliziosa. But the moments with my friend? Even better.