Psycho sandwiches and other meals
My daughter is exceptionally lucky (yes, apart from the fact that I am her mom) and is doing a surgical rotation with one of the best orthopaedic surgeons in the country. She is absolutely blossoming under his teaching and comes home with all sorts of stories ( which of course, she is not allowed to tell us over dinner). We always thought that in the operating theatre, the conversation must revolve around important medical things and ?life and death, or existential questions, different philosophies or at least which share options to buy, but according to my daughter, it seems they have rather mundane conversations and mostly chat about food, children and traffic. Last week she came home, and instead of sharing some information about a complicated new hip surgery she excitedly told us that the infamous wonder-doctor has a great recipe we should try. Now, dear reader, lower your expectations. I am not about to share a simple way to do a risotto or the perfect slow braised oxtail. This glorious recipe is a sandwich recipe and has only three ingredients:
Bread.
Peanut butter.
Bacon.
All I said was, “Thank the Lord this doctor got into medical school and did not do a chef apprenticeship.”
It is wonderful to know that this man makes these sandwiches when he packs his children’s school lunch. Is that not the most beautiful way to tell your kids you love them? It combines so many love languages that I can almost forgive him for the strange taste combinations.
I remember my mom packing us lunches, and more often than not, there was a little note or drawing inside. It was just a reminder that she loved us and that there was ?a safe space to come home to after surviving the TED (Transvaal Education Department ) of the 80’s. We were nourished as much by the food as the love in our lunchboxes. When we were planning our lodges, the one thing we knew right from the start was that we wanted to serve beautiful, nutrient-dense food that would encourage healing and remind our patients that life is filled with gorgeous smells and delicious tastes. Chef Dylan it an expert at this, and even after three years of us working together, he still comes up with new and exciting meals as well as the old favourites.
I digress (as usual) and want to get to my point… ?I do not want to talk about patients, their meals, strange sandwiches or even the horror which is hospital food. I want to chat about something else we started doing by chance. We have a long-term patient with us who is on a ventilator, and part of our arrangement is that we cook three hot meals for her specialised carers every day. This suddenly presented a solution to a problem that has been nagging at the back of my mind for months.
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As you must know, ?inflation is crazy and the cost of living is skyrocketing. I often look at my team and know how life on the outside is crippling them. If you have ever done a budget with the average South African, you’d know the amount of money that people are expected to pay in the form of black tax. (If you are not familiar with this term please see below*).
I noticed with my team that the first thing they did when it came to trying to deal with cost of living expenses and trying to save money was that they compromised on their own nutrition. I noticed that where they used to bring “scaftins” filled with pap, meat and fruit, they would now bring a coke and white bread, despite the fact that they were actually getting paid more. So, ?I wondered whether it would not be a good idea to also serve our own staff three hot meals a day (yes, the income statement very loudly and very clearly shouted that this was a terrible, terrible idea because ?we have many staff members, gardeners, maintenance teams, drivers, carers, cleaners and admin staff… and good food is pricey). Despite my better judgement we started serving these meals and I loved the fellowship that it sparked. Staff were sitting together in the morning sun having breakfast. At lunchtime they would sit together eating quietly and started bringing in drinks or special sauces to share. This initiative was more than filling tummies. We started building community and respect. Staff can care even better when they know that they are cared for and loved.
I am not the first one who thought that inviting people to eat together was a good idea. If you read this blog regularly, you will know I am a big fan of Jesus Christ, and this is exactly how He operated when it came to people. He did not start a formal movement or form a committee or raise up an army. He invited people to have a meal. He would braai fish on the beach for his disciples or eat with prostitutes. On one fabulous occasion He sommer invited Himself to have dinner with a nasty tax collector with small man syndrome. On the worst night of His life, instead of preaching or screaming or sulking, He had a meal with His friends.
Sharing food is embedded in our DNA, it is part of who we are and how we express our love. I hope that with these hot meals, people will be reminded that they are loved, that they matter and that they are worth the investment, in terms of food, but also in terms of connection and love.
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*Black tax refers to?the financial burden borne by South Africans who have achieved a level of success and who provide support to less financially secure family members. These monetary transfers are generally made between middle-class and well-to-do Black people and their relatives who are struggling to make ends meet. It is not a formal tax, but a social expectation and cultural practice. Research and data on the exact percentage of income that South African workers allocate to black tax can vary, but several surveys and studies have provided some insights: