As the weather cools and the leaves change in my corner of the world, I am pulled outside, pulled to the ridges of Cold Mountain and Mount Mitchell, to the Art Loeb Trail, and to Ferguson Knob near my home. I'm pulled into my own backyard, to the towering protection of the trees, to the fact of morning and night stacking upon each other, a reliable fortress of days lived. I'm pulled to the birds, to the curious details of their voices, and the sounds of their wings. The steadfast accompaniment to all of this outdoor time, as I've completed the newest module of my online course, has been fire. A warm fire, the smell of wood smoke, and the crackle of small things burning has made an indelible mark across my days. As I build fire and tend fire, I've been musing on the building and tending of culture, which is, I feel, perhaps the greatest calling of our particular moment.
Our world is burning with thoughts and feelings these days, and our feeds and our inboxes are full of who is right and who is wrong. I find it increasingly difficult to complete a thought in the noise that has become 2020, and it seems as though the noise hasn't even crescendoed. Instead, I go out in the morning and light the flame. As I go about my day, I am moving coals-- some into the stove, some into the smoker. All the while, an open fire burns in the fire pit, and my son is warm and playing on the large stone beside it. He is learning, when I ask him, to add another log, gently, and without fear. By the time dark comes, he is asking for marshmallows, and hugging into the margins of the fire's glow, as the air turns toward an evening hue, and chills.
All the while I think of my friends in the west, who are living in a fiery apocalypse. Farmworkers are being displaced and poisoned by smoke. Communities and families on the frontlines of the food system, and people who are already the most vulnerable to disasters are falling victim to fire's force. I muse and muse, over this elemental energy that is simultaneously so damaging, yet primordial and constituent to life itself. I build the "Smoking Meats" course as this paradox consumes my thinking, and the fires consume more and more acreage in Oregon and California. I speak of "the fire here" and "the fire there" with my children, as a way of discussing respect, as a way of considering elements, conditions, context, courage.
There are endless symbols in the twisting flames. And always, I am comforted. In a time of death, and fear, and fighting, fire remains a living force for good and for bad. Just as are our other outputs. Words. Body language. Social media posts. Norms for group meetings. Methods of debate. Decisions made. Discomforts lived. Stories told and translated. I tend one fire after another just as I tend the moment to moment volatility of this year. I begin to think of these things as one and the same. As in: Every morning, every moment, light a good fire.
As a pandemic brings out the best and the worst in society's built reality, as radical calls for social change reveal more fully the dichotomy of peoples' lived experience, and as political rhetoric reveals the utter tragedy that my country faces, I feel more than ever the call to create culture. To move culture. To build it and tend it and breathe into it a life force that is powerful and warm. I look around me, I listen to the calling cards of the culture I live in. They are not of good fire. They are of destructive fire.
A good fire, a healthy fire, is restorative to everyone. From its fruits of smoke and heat, I can create infinite offerings. A space to gather. A comforting meal. A lesson. A story. A renewing idea of stewardship and respect and good faith. From the consciousness that it requires in me, I am building other things. Quiet. Time to think. Attention toward what I believe is valuable in a time like this. Intention toward what a better cultural situation might actually contain. Fire requires of me an immediate congruence between attention and action. The culture I build within my circle of influence, with every post, every utterance, every action, requires the same. If I look around and see the rootlessness that has created such vitriol and harm, then what are the ways to provide for the culture that I’d like to see? Down to the barest minutiae of every day, I find ways to change what fuel I put into the cultural pile.
Smoking foods successfully throughout history has been a multi-purpose endeavor. It is a journey in preservation and flavor, but at its base requires knowledge and nurture, and a very good fire. This module of my charcuterie intensive doesn't include these more philosophical and spiritual angles, but know that they are behind all of the science, technique, and tips. What you'll gain along with the instruction can't necessarily be recorded. As you make these good fires, I hope you’ll find the space to contemplate the metaphorical openings, and cultivate time to conjure appropriate fuel.
As you go, I also think you'll find the act of fire building, fire tending, and smoking a restorative one for you, personally. It's a way to enjoy being outside, slow down, and pay attention, and it's a way to bring your people together. In this way, this course perhaps couldn't be coming at a better time.
From my fire circle to yours, I truly hope you are ok, and finding some moments of comfort and joy during a turbulent time.
