#5: Food means "I love you"
Love languages and mailing favorite feasts
The language of food
Last week, Rhody and I signed a THREE-YEAR lease here in France. We don’t have a car, so every few days, we lug things from our Airbnb to the new digs.
On Tuesday we dropped off a round of old journals, then ambled back to our temporary place. Toulouse is threaded with alleys and cobblestone and folks drinking evening espressos or wine. On the walk, Rhody and I popped into late-night stores for street beers and chocolate. And somewhere - along the Garonne, maybe - we looked at each other and said, “We really did this,” moving, upending our lives for a fresh country, “for no reason.”
Right then, it felt hilarious. No job, no lover, no grad program drew us here. Just the idea that we deserved to be happy and were willing to relocate to a new continent. Sometimes, when I’m surrounded by storybook buildings (or drunk college kids hooting in French), it dawns on me all over: holy shit.
It’s too early to tell if this is the city that’ll finally wrangle me for the long haul, but for now, hot damn is it a great place to figure it out.
Maybe it helps that the people here are incredible. I don’t know what’s up with stereotypes about French folks. In Toulouse, everyone is so helpful, it’s almost overwhelming. One friend signed on as our guarantor without hesitation. Others helped navigate apartment viewings. Another friend carried an end table across the city.
Rhody and I’s new friend Laurent has particularly devoted himself to our move. He spent three hours at the bank helping us open an account, then spent three more hours at our lease signing a few days later. And this week, he used his car to move every scrap of furniture Rhody and I scrounged from dumpsters so far1.
Laurent didn’t have to do any of it. It’s humid here, y’all, with no AC, and our building’s elevator is a classic European shoebox. Some furniture only reached our fifth-floor apartment via stairs.
I was racking my noggin over how to thank him. So when his car was loaded with our things and only two folks could fit alongside, I stayed behind and busted out my five-ingredient coconut curry.
It’s not very aesthetic, is made with whatever I got on hand, and always nourishes me so deep, I feel it in my soul’s toes.
After several hours, a liter of sweat, another trip to the new place (this time I went too), and an hour-plus phone call to the electric company, Laurent, Rhody, and I returned to the Airbnb. It smelled like curry heaven. We divvied the food up, slumped at the dining table that doubles as my work desk, and ate.
There’s nothing like that quiet, chill gratitude that washes over you when feasting with friends after a long day.
Food is magic. It says, “Thank you, I love you,” to whoever you fed. “I made you this because I hope you live forever.” A go-to recipe and the veggies you got on hand are all you need.
What we’re mailing
If I could mail chili in an envelope to people who could use home cooking, you bet your ass I would.
But I don’t want to be an international post office tyrant on a stamp-sized wanted poster, labeled a menace who sends leaky mail that stains every love letter or mystery check it touches en route, so this week we’re doing the next best thing.
We’re mailing off a dang good recipe.
Follow your gut on this one (hehehe). What have you been jazzed about in the kitchen lately? What have you cooked in the past month or two that’s had you going, “Oh, fuck, my brother/cousin/best friend/childhood sweetheart/ex-coworker-at-that-dive-restaurant would kill for this?”
For me, it’s tantanmen. Creamy vegan ramen that I want to eat every day, despite the humidity. I’ll labor over the stove and create a kitchen-sized sauna if it ends in tantanmen. I don’t care. It’s 90°F, but even now I’m glancing at the kitchen, wondering if (when) I should make it. I’m not a food blog person - the fake stories and SEO optimization drive me bananas - but The Foodie Takes Flight is my exception. I love tofu, she loves tofu, the math is easy - and so is sending it to someone else.
Here’s what you’re gonna do:
Choose whatever recipe you want to send, like your uncle’s chili or your favorite almond cake.
Transcribe the recipe onto spare paper. If you want to make this quick, print it out. Remember, sending more mail isn’t about making it influencer perfect; it’s about connecting with loved ones. Print that shit if you’re a busy bee :).
Jot something onto a sticky note and slap it on the recipe for your recipient. Keep your message short and sweet (like you!).
Pop it in an envelope, slide it in the mailbox, and pat yourself on the back - you did it again, you angel!
Sending someone a recipe is the next best thing to feeding them in real life. And sure, you could DM the link, but how often do we actually make the recipes folks send us online? Battered on all sides by DMs and emails and shiny videos of cats, what kind of Memory Demon remembers a recipe sent two weeks ago? Mailing a physical copy means it’s always on hand - and that your recipient feels loved every time they look at it. Could a DM ever say the same?
Who we’re sending it to
Your foodie friendos
You’ll probably have the best luck mailing this to someone who loves to cook the kind of thing you’re sending. Don’t mail a peanut butter cookie recipe to someone you’ve only seen operate a grill. Other than that, go ham, y’all, and choose whoever the heck you want that appreciates the art of making a good meal.
I’m sending this recipe to my brother and his boyfriend. My brother is a Waffle House cook, and he loves cooking outside of the workplace, too. He and his boyf both cherish ramen, are adventurous in the kitchen, and lean plant-based. My brother’s boyfriend also has a passion for cabbage, making them the perfect duo for my current culinary obsession.
While you’re mailin’, listen to this:
(If you don’t have Spotify, listen to it on YouTube here.)
This is such a tender song for summer. Dolly Parton’s laughter kills me. This ditty gets me in the perfect mood for sharing warmth with people who are ready to receive it!
Tell me something~
What recipe did you send?
Do you ever actually try recipes folks text/email you?
Lemme know here :)
See ya next week, friends!
Love,
Nikita, Your Snail Mail Sweetheart
Some habits never change.