In the face of disaster, a warm meal provides sustenance, and hope

What is food?

On the surface, a simple question.

At the chemical level, food is fuel. Without it, our bodies stop functioning, like a car that idles away the last drop of gas while waiting in line for more. We must have food to think and work, to keep on going.

Any food will do the basic job of keeping the machine running and, obviously, that’s important.

But food is also comfort. An acknowledgment that you’re not alone. Food is hope.

As Hurricane Florence was making Eastern North Carolina look like a disaster movie come to horrifying life, I joined dozens of volunteers at World Central Kitchen’s setup at Raleigh’s Rocky Top Catering.

You may have heard about chef Jose Andres’ organization, which has fed people in devastated Puerto Rico, during the California wildfires and in other spots around the world.

The group set up in Wilmington and Raleigh before the storm made landfall and has been preparing hot, healthy meals there with the help of many of the city’s chefs and community volunteers. The Raleigh location was set up to serve area shelters established for storm refugees, plus feed the first responders assisting residents.

As experienced chefs rubbed herbs and mustard on pork loins, I chopped up more potatoes in two hours than I have all year, next to a table where other volunteers were scooping batter for snickerdoodles. (I remembered my father’s tales of KP duty during World War II and knew he’d have a good laugh if he could see me.)

Then, I split florets of broccoli into even tinier floret-lets to go into tossed salads, which I helped pack and roll into the cooler. Also, I was taught how to properly sanitize work areas — and found out that a 61-year-old back will complain after attempting to push carts containing multiple buckets of water-covered spuds.

Near the end of the day, I was sent to help count out disposable cutlery packets to add to the food deliveries for shelters: 150, 35, 40; we counted for every destination. Each of those packets — a knife, fork and napkin — represented a person, someone who had been forced to leave everything they knew in pursuit of safety, or those who had left their own safe homes to help.

I glimpsed a tiny piece of the enormity of what was happening to my state in the bit of sealed plastic in my hand.

MREs absolutely serve well when hungry people need to eat. Peanut butter sandwiches, bags of chips and packs of Nabs are small miracles in a disaster.

However, a flavorful hot meal says something. That someone cares. That there is still a little joy in the world, made tangible by the spicy-sweet flavor of a freshly baked snickerdoodle or the melting tenderness of roast pork. That a good meal can bring a smile, if just for a moment.

It might seem silly to some people to offer cookies or jalapeno cornbread in the face of Florence, like tossing a wine cork to a drowning man. But I don’t think so.

For chefs and people who care about food, like me, we cook. It’s what we do. We believe in the healing power of food.

Three days after the storm hit the coast, a group of Triangle chefs had organized a fund-raising dinner in Durham for displaced farm workers. Five days after, lists of contributions and special events by restaurants and chefs began to fill my Facebook feed. I’m certain that by the time this piece appears, there will be many more.

We believe that food is powerful. Food is hope. Let’s get cooking.

This story was originally published September 22, 2018 at 8:00 AM with the headline "In the face of disaster, a warm meal provides sustenance, and hope."