I was on the receiving end of something special. I’d experienced first-hand the meaningful impact of sharing community, showing up for our friends and neighbors.
It started when a certain friend—who later became a colleague when she took the role of executive editor for Edible Bozeman—drove six hours at the drop of a hat. Home with our first baby four years ago, we were hours away from family, trying our best to take the new changes in stride.
She must have heard it in my voice. How do I do this? She told me she’d be at our house tomorrow. When she came, she took inventory of the fridge then asked if I had a soup pot. The next morning, she returned bearing armfuls of fresh food. I sat at the dining table cradling my baby while she unloaded into the fridge. Look what I found at the natural grocery! she’d exclaim.
Bags empty, she placed a dark blue enameled Dutch oven on the stove. Now you have a beautiful soup pot, she’d said smiling. And with that, she set to work: Dice the onions and garlic. Dice a rainbow of peppers. Sauté the meat. Sauté the vegetables. Add the broth. Season and stir. Simmer. Taste. Stir.
When Jeanne left my home that day, she left us with a fridge full of food. Staples. Treats. Hearty meals to satisfy my husband’s bottomless stomach; comforting food to nourish my soul.
I was on the receiving end of something special. I’d experienced first-hand the meaningful impact of sharing community, showing up for our friends and neighbors.
Then, a year later, in celebration of our daughter’s first birthday, I decided to make Jeanne’s chili. Overwhelmed with the thought that my daughter was already a year old, overcome by the excitement that friends and family wanted to celebrate with us, I cried as I stirred, watching the heat wilt the chard, observing the squash bob along next to red and yellow peppers. On the third birthday I added a medley of ground meat from the freezer: our neighbor’s beef, mountain goat, elk, and domestic goat. And I paired it with loaves of my own bread. The aroma of caramelized flour and bone broth filled our home. When the last RSVP came in for a family of six the night before the party, I looked to my husband with worry. Will we have enough? I’d better make more. Dice. Sauté. Season. Stir.
This fall marks birthday number four, and I’ve come to relish the opportunity to host good friends and enjoy the feeling of togetherness. Neighbors join in, friends show up, and we take time to be together as the season shifts from summer adventure and productivity and we approach the impending clutch of wintertide. It’s a time to celebrate the gift of a child, a time for kids to play, a time to gather in community around nourishing, wholesome food.
As we take pause in celebration, join me in spirit. Partnerships, community, camaraderie are a key ingredient to life.
Jessianne Castle
Editor in Chief
