‘A good send-off’

— Why food plays a major role in Irish wakes and funerals

Irish funerals and wakes since ancient times have always highlighted the importance of food, feasting and hospitality

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As one of those who lost an elderly parent during the pandemic, we were unable to give the appropriate ‘send-off’ to a member of the older generation who would have fully expected one. I found myself at one stage mechanically making two sliced pans worth of sandwiches in my late mother’s kitchen, forgetting there would be no mourners coming to serve them to due to lockdown restrictions.

This brought into sharp focus the real function of funeral hospitality: without visitors to share the food with, my immediate family lacked the impetus – or the appetite – and the food was thrown out days later. It’s the rituals that help make a funeral. Often we don’t know why, but we enact them in the knowledge that it’s what we’re supposed to do. Without the anchor of a set of traditions to follow, the days around a funeral, difficult enough to navigate with grief, felt even more rudderless at the height of Covid.

Providing appropriate provisions for guests was a deep seated concept in Ireland. Under the Brehon laws, a householder was required to offer food and lodging to any traveller passing through. The higher a guest’s social status, the higher level of hospitality they expected to receive.

Later, great funeral feasts were held for Gaelic chieftains where the new heir marked his succession by providing ceremonial meals for mourners. These funeral banquets were as much about the heir’s generosity for appearances’ sake. Lavish hospitality could help advance a family in Gaelic society by demonstrating prestige and power.

Stakes were high, and guests with elevated expectations could be quite judgemental about what was on offer. Guests attending funerals expected good food and drink to be served. Traditionally, mourners were provided with food and drink to provide sustenance while they sat up with the corpse through all-night wakes. Partaking of hospitality was one of many rituals that, once enacted during this liminal period, was another stage in signifying the soul of the deceased passing over into the next realm.

Perhaps therein lies the roots of Irish generosity in such circumstances: legislated in old Irish law and as a concept in tradition, it became innate in folk custom that it was right and proper to offer appropriate hospitality. It was also considered ‘unlucky to refuse’, and the superstitious time around a funeral was not one where people took their chances with luck.

By the early 20th century, bestowing hospitality despite humble circumstances was a key tenet of Irish identity. James Joyce wrote, albeit ironically, that “the tradition of genuine warm-hearted courteous Irish hospitality, which our forefathers have handed down to us and which we in turn must hand down to our descendants, is still alive among us.” The idea that generous hospitality must be extended continues to be key in most Irish celebrations and feasting today. Being conscious of appearances and not wanting to let the side down or being seen as ‘stingy’ can lead to the often-extravagant spread at Irish gatherings.

The multi-use table

From the post Famine period and into living memory, the ‘feasts’ that maintained formal dining seated at tables were wedding breakfasts and harvest feasts. Funeral catering involved simple food usually served ‘in the hand’ or passed around to mourners informally seated while conversing. These would have been much humbler than the medieval banquets of old.

Late 19th century traditional Irish kitchen table, still in use in the O’Brien homestead in Kilbrittain Co Cork.

At Irish wakes throughout the 19th century, sitting at the kitchen table for hospitality was off-limits, because that piece of furniture was a focal point for reasons other than food. The kitchen table or ‘bord’ might alternatively contain an altar or the corpse itself. When laid out and ready to view on the table the corpse was termed ‘over board’. According to the funeral director David McGowan, this term persisted into living memory.

In earlier times at wakes, the long wooden stretchers underneath the tabletop might be where the corpse was laid out, while the tabletop was used as an altar. Most families would have lacked appropriate furniture to serve the large number of mourners in a formal manner, and neighbours often loaned furniture and crockery.

‘Wake provisions’

As one of the key events in Irish life, guests not only fully expected ‘a good spread’ at a funeral but it had also been also keenly anticipated by the deceased that they would have, and be given, a ‘good send off’. In the more recent past, even the poorest people saved money so that their funeral could be catered suitably.

At a time of frugal diets, dominated by potatoes and buttermilk, a funeral offered a chance to feast on treats: tea with sugar, bread with jam, a glass of whiskey, good tobacco. These were key on the shopping list known as the ‘wake provisions’.

A wake provisions list from 1912 in the Clay Pipe Museum, Knockcroghery, Co Roscommon.

The custom was that male relatives of the deceased were responsible for going to the local grocer to collect this. The men had to do this in pairs, to have another to-hand for protection from any evil spirits at a potentially dangerous spiritual time. The wake provisions included clay pipes and tobacco, alcohol such as porter and whiskey, along with tea, shop-bought white bread, jam, sugar and meat.

In the past, wakes and funerals, along with fairs and pilgrimages, were large gatherings that allowed a usually dispersed rural community to come together. Many wakes were places for young people to stay up late and socialise, and some wake games facilitated flirtation and courtship. In addition, the serving of treats and alcohol gave a party atmosphere that along with some of the ‘heathen’ customs involved drew the ire of the Catholic Church.

Funeral hospitality today

Although many customs have died out, the funeral in Ireland retains an importance as a collective event, and one where hospitality remains important. Today, this is more formal, invite-only and restrained when compared to the past, when mourners would simply turn up at the house when they heard keening begin. Wakes are now often denoted as ‘house private’ or take place, carefully regulated, in funeral homes.

Any home catering is usually informally served tea and triangle-cut sandwiches, (egg mayonnaise, or ham, or cheese for vegetarians) along with cakes and scones. Church services are followed by cremation or burial, and the ‘afters’ now usually take place at a hotel, where that intrinsic Irish hospitality is remnant in the form of a sit-down meal for invited guests.

Post Celtic Tiger, Irish hotels have become the real engines behind the hospitality for life events that once took place in the home: funerals, weddings, and other celebrations. Hotels and their staff can offer a fascinating lens through which to observe contemporary Irish customs and rituals.

One Irish chef I spoke to observed that ‘hotel’ funerals are not as big as other such events, guests do not linger long and there is a reluctance to take alcohol as many are driving. “From what I’ve witnessed, formal sit-down [funeral] meals are a much quieter affair where people don’t really know how to ‘be’“.

The formalities therefore tend to stifle the atmosphere. The wish to offer substantial hospitality to guests, versus what the guests might actually prefer, and the struggle to figure out what is appropriate these days – food truck? Barbeque? – is a particularly modern Irish conundrum, and one that might be solved by a return to slightly more traditional rituals.

Sean Moncrieff recently wrote of the comfort of funeral food from a mourner’s point of view, and how it is an evocative part of the grieving process. From the point of view of the bereaved, serving and interacting with guests (be it at a wake house or hotel) offers a welcome fleeting distraction from grief. It gently encourages eating and engagement at a time when the stomach feels hollow. To this day, wherever the location, offering and partaking of hospitality, and ritually sharing and consuming, all continues to be an essential part of the Irish funeral tradition, and will continue to be in whatever form it takes in the future.

Complete Article HERE!

Cooking Can Help Us Grieve, Heal, and Process Our Emotions

—Here’s Why

By Kayla Hui

Recently, I flipped the last page of Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner. For those of you who haven’t read it, the memoir is about Zauner growing up Korean in the United States, navigating life without her mother—who passed away after battling an aggressive form of pancreatic cancer—and rediscovering her identity. Down to its core, it’s a touching and fill-your-heart-up story about how cooking and food can help us heal after losing people we love (and warning: reading the book will make you sob).

Whether you cook or not, grief experts confirm that preparing dishes that loved ones used to make for us can play a crucial role in processing grief. To better understand the science, we spoke with a few professionals to learn how cooking can help us heal from loss. And in this week’s episode of the Well+Good Podcast, we had a conversation with Frankie Gaw, author of the new cookbook First Generation: Recipes from My Taiwanese-American Home and Susan Krauss Whitbourne, PhD, psychology professor Emerita at University of Massachusetts, Amherst to talk about the profound healing power of food and cooking.

Taste, memory, and keeping loved ones alive through our meals

Cooking is a sensory experience, involving touch, taste, sight, smell, and hearing.  Of all the senses, though, “the sense most strongly tied with memory is olfactory,” aka our sense of smell, says Peggy Loo, PhD, a licensed psychologist and director of Manhattan Therapy Collective based in New York. When we cook, we activate the hippocampus and amygdala, which are parts of the brain involved in memory and emotional processing.

Research shows that human olfaction can cue emotional aspects of our memory, most of which comes from the first decade of our life. “This is why certain smells can elicit visceral reactions and evoke memories from long ago,” says Shavaun McGinty, MA, LPC, CT, a licensed professional counselor and certified grief counselor at the Peacemaker Center in Dowingtown, Pennsylvania. This process is what some experts refer to as the “Proust phenomenon”—at the beginning of Proust’s novel, Swann’s Way, he details a scenario in which the taste and smell of a madeleine cookie dipped in a cup of tea brings back a character’s long-forgotten memory in detail.

What’s more, cooking helps us grieve is by minimizing the fear of forgetting our loved ones, whether it’s “their voice, their laugh, or that one facial expression they had when they were about to sneeze,” says Dr. Loo. “Knowing that our sense of smell is powerfully tied to memories means that you can access them when cooking dishes we associated with our loved one.”

By following recipes that our loved ones used to make for us or recreating dishes we once shared with friends and family, we keep the memory of a loved one or passed experience alive. In a way, the aromas and scents of the meal help us travel back in time—whether that means apples and cinnamon from your mother’s apple pie or in my case, the steaming broth from hot pot. Cooking is what keeps us connected to loved ones after they’re gone. 

When we lose that special someone in our life, it’s also not uncommon to feel like we lost a piece of ourselves, including our cultural identity. However, cooking can be a way to honor cultural ties, or the passing on of something you had with a loved one, explains Dr. Loo.

Like Zauner, I, too, grew up Asian in America and lost a loved one: my gong gong (grandfather in Cantonese), who immigrated to the United States in the mid-1950s to start a better life. When he passed away from a heart attack in 2002, not only did my family fall apart (he was the glue that held us together), I felt like I lost a large part of my Chinese identity.

A chef, my gong gong cooked for a living and for family, but his death meant that Cantonese dishes—stir-fried clams in black bean sauce, garlic-infused green beans, and steamed fish with ginger and scallions—were no longer served at the dinner table. Though his death occurred when I was just six years old, I’ve come to realize that I felt the gravity of it most in college, where I grappled with feeding myself and realizing that I couldn’t cook traditional Chinese food. I didn’t learn any of my gong gong’s recipes, and he was the only one in my family who knew them. I felt ashamed and disconnected to my identity. However, I found solace in the aisles of Asian grocery stores, picking and reminiscing foods and snacks he used to make for me, and learning recipes online. And in making a bold attempt to cook a version of my gong gong’s Cantonese food at home, I felt more connected to him and my culture.

Grief looks differently for everyone, but cooking is the glue that binds us closer together. “It can be helpful to plan intentional pockets of space for your grief—like the one you might have cooking a meal from beginning to end,” Dr. Loo says.

Whether you’ve lost a parent, sibling, grandparent, or friend, cooking is the driver that reconnects us, grounds us, and helps us heal.

Complete Article HERE!

I grieve for my mum by making soup. Big or small, our death rituals matter

The pandemic has meant many of us are in mourning, but the things we do help us remember

It’s more what soup represents; it’s warm, it’s comforting, it’s schmeckt

By Eleanor Margolis

For the past few weeks, I’ve been making soup almost constantly. Never has a nervous breakdown smelled so savoury. Maybe not a nervous breakdown, exactly. But I always act oddly this time of year.

Or have done, at least, for the past four years, since my mum died on a November afternoon. This year, in a cyclone of chopped vegetables and stock that I’d attributed to it being “soup season”, it occurred to me that this was actually grief soup.

That I was channelling the sadness of another year without my mum into the repetitive actions – chopping, frying, blending – that come with obsessive soup-making.

It’s not that my mum herself made a lot of soup (although her cooking in general will always be one of my happiest memories of her).

It’s more what soup represents; it’s warm, it’s comforting, it’s schmeckt. Schmeckt is the Yiddish word my mum always used to describe something truly radioactive with flavour.

In a soup (if it’s any good) you have the deep brown savouriness of the stock merged with the sweetness of vegetables such as carrots and onions, and concentrated into pure schmeckt. You basically isolate everything delicious about each ingredient, and put it in a bowl. And it helps that I never feel so close to my mum as when I’m chopping an onion.

As year two of the pandemic starts to wrap up, many millions of people are observing death anniversaries. Most are probably not making vats of grief soup, but we all have our rituals that help us remember those we’ve lost in the best possible light.

I know that anyone who saw a loved one in an ICU with Covid will have two conflicting images of that person.

I visited my mum in intensive care when she was dying of cancer, and the sight of her in a hospital bed, full of tubes, will always be at war with my memory of her bustling around a kitchen, making beautiful smells.

Death rituals, be it those entrenched in different religions and cultures, or those we invent ourselves, are designed to help us remember the good over the unspeakably awful. In November, of course, the entire country becomes enraptured by an increasingly divisive death ritual involving poppies and silence.

At the moment though, I’m still distracted by loss on a personal level. As well as the unofficial remembrance act of soup-making, this year I lit a yahrzeit candle for my mum. This is a Jewish death ritual. We aren’t a religious family at all, but I feel like she’d get a kick out of it.

A candle is standard remembrance fare for a reason; it’s somberly calming to stare into a flame as it dances with life, and think about decrying your mum for picking little piles of dead skin off her feet, only to have her reply, “You’ll miss me when I’m dead”.

After four years, she mostly just feels phenomenally far away. But still – I like to think – out there somewhere, watching me perform my stupid little rituals.

Maybe the dead have ways of remembering the living, too. Light years away, perhaps, my mum is cooking grief soup for me.

Complete Article HERE!

Cold Food Festival and Qingming Festival (Tomb Sweeping Day)

By Sarah Elizabeth Troop

qingming1

How did an act of cannibalism transform into a national day for honoring  the dead?

As the legend goes, during China’s Spring and Autumn Period following a civil war, Prince Chong Er was forced into exile for 19-years. With him was his loyal minister, Jie. When the pair had run out of food and were starving, Jie cut the flesh from his own leg and made a leg soup from it to feed the Prince, taking loyalty to a whole new level.

When the hard times were over and the Prince became King, he rewarded all those who had remained loyal to him and totally overlooked the guy who CUT THE FLESH OFF HIS OWN LEG TO FEED HIM. Jie packed up his bags and disappeared into the wilderness, taking  his mom with him.

Someone finally confronted the King about his major oversight and feeling ashamed, he went off in search of Jie, but never found him. In result, some idiot suggested setting the entire wilderness on fire to smoke him and his moms out so, that’s just what the king does. Surprise! Still no Jie.

When the fire was extinguished poor, loyal Jie is found dead in the forest , underneath a willow tree, with his mother on his back. Inside the tree is a letter, written in blood from Jie, “Giving meat and heart to my lord, hoping my lord will always be upright. An invisible ghost under a willow tree is better than a loyal minister beside my lord.” Ouch…

In honor of Jie’s death, the King decreed that no fires could be lit on this day and created the Hanshi Festival or “Cold Food Festival,” since food could not be cooked.

Throughout China’s history the Cold Food Festival has been absorbed into the Tomb Sweeping Festival, which occurs on April 4 or 5th each year.

Qingming Festival2

Quingming or Tomb Sweeping Day in China is a day for honoring the dead. The day is reserved for visiting the graves of loved ones. At this time the graves are cleaned and tended to, favorite foods of the deceased are offered and the practice of burning paper goods, “joss paper,” in the form of money and luxury items is practiced. Joss paper has taken many forms in recent years, everything from McDonalds food to IPhones to the more traditional money, ensuring that the deceased is well provided for in the afterlife. It is reassuring to know there is no McDonalds in the afterlife, tho, amirite?

Qingming Festival3

Since the tradition of eating cold food remains a large part of the festival, qing tuan, sweet green rice balls, have been a traditional festival food for some 2,000 years. A  “green rice” dish is also common, containing a mixture of rice powder and green mugworts, stuffed with a sweet bean paste. Both dishes are common offerings to the dead.

Modern elements now include the recent crop of websites where busy families and professionals who cannot travel to the gravesite can choose from different “tomb sweeping packages.”  Professional mourners will go to your loved ones grave, clean and provide traditional offerings. Sobbing or weeping is extra.

Complete Article HERE!

The Hungry Mourner

From funeral biscuits to cemetery picnics to parsley crowns, here’s how the world marks death with food.

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Funeral biscuits, a Los Angelitos celebration, a cemetery picnic
Funeral biscuits, a Los Angelitos celebration, a cemetery picnic

Our relationship with food is almost as complicated as the one we have with death. Food can bring comfort, be tied to feelings of guilt or pleasure, and can evoke memories and feelings as powerful as any song. It’s no wonder that throughout history and across cultures, people have used food to help honor loved ones who have died. Here are some ways in which it’s been done.

1. Dumb Supper

During this feast — thought by some scholars to be a precursor to modern Halloween — a table is laid out all in black, with places for both the living and the dead. No one speaks to allow for communion with the dead. Guests bring with them a letter written to a loved one who has passed. When the meal is over the unread letters are burned and one by one the messages within are thought to be carried into the spirit world. Believed to have roots in ancient Celtic tradition, the dumb supper was brought to Appalachia by American settlers. Some living in the region still hold the suppers. It is also observed on Samhain, one of the four Gaelic seasonal festivals, by Pagans and Wiccans.

2. Telling the Bees

One old English custom also practiced in America in the early 19th century — and a risky one, to be sure — involved going out to the beehive to deliver the news that a family member had died. The messenger would tap on the hive and whisper, “Little Brownies, your mistress is dead.” Families would attach an invitation to the funeral on the hive and bring food from the funeral feast to the bees. This was a way to show gratitude and respect for the bees and their gifts of honey, beeswax and pollination. Fail to do so, and you would risk offending the bees, which might choose to move on to a more appreciative family.

3. Fave dei Morti (Beans of the Dead) 

During ancient Roman times, the souls of ancestors were thought to reside in fava beans. At Roman wedding feasts, beans were presented to the bride and groom, who would eat them in hopes of attracting the souls of male ancestors to carry on the family bloodline. (Eating beans on your wedding day — that’s risky in a different way.) As a bonus, beans were also believed to ward off ghosts and vampires, who were easily tricked into thinking the beans were living people. And on All Souls Day in Italy, it is common to consume bean-shaped cookies, or fave del morti. There are many different variations, but the most popular resembles a macaroon-like cake in appearance, but with a rich, buttery texture and sweet almond flavor. More traditional versions are shaped like kidney beans and flavored with almond flour and extract. Here’s a recipe.

4. Obon Figures

Obon is a series of festival days in Japan when the souls of the departed are thought to visit their living relatives. Horses and cow figurines are made from vegetables placed on altars. It is believed that the spirits of the visiting ancestors ride the animals between worlds of the living and the dead.

5. Funeral Biscuits

Funeral biscuits first appeared in 1600s Europe, and were also commonplace up until the early 1900s in America. They were sometimes taken door-to-door and served as a funeral invitation or handed out as a keepsake after the funeral. According to Barts Pathology Museum’s curator Carla Valentine, funeral biscuits were wrapped in a paper that bore a poem or prayer with the name of the deceased, then sealed with black wax and stamped with a skull or hourglass.  Should you want to make a batch, here’s a recipe.

6. Lemons 

In Switzerland, male mourners would wrap a lemon in a handkerchief and place it into their hat. The hat would be carried under the left arm for the duration of the funeral. At the end of the service, the lemons were placed on the grave to symbolize the “sharpness” of their grief.

7. Los Angelitos 

During Mexico’s Days of the Dead, a sacred observance when spirits of deceased family members are believed to return to the earth for a family reunion with the living, one day is set aside to welcome the spirits of children, or Los Angelitos (The Little Angels). Altars are decorated, and food is offered up in miniature portions and served on tiny plates, often with a little glass of milk.

8. Journey Cakes 

A staple of cuisine in the American south is a little corn cake, known as a Johnny Cake. The term “Johnny” was derived from the corn cakes’ original use as “Journey Cakes,” among some African tribes. They were placed in coffins to provide sustenance for the deceased during their long journey to the afterlife.

9. Parsley 

After ancient Greeks dedicated this herb to the goddess Persephone, who reigns over the land of the dead, it became a staple during funeral rites. Parsley was planted over graves and athletes donned crowns of parsley during Funeral Games. The games, depicted in the Iliad, were played in the deceased’s honor and are recognized as the precursor to the Olympics. They included chariot races, wrestling, boxing, discus throwing and running.

10. Cemetery Picnics

During the Victorian era when cemeteries were cultivated as parks and gardens, people came to enjoy a day of leisure, to partake of a meal with loved ones no longer with them or even dine on the family’s prepaid plot. In America, the practice took on a more practical purpose: when communities would come together to help clean and maintain the cemetery grounds. Graves would be tended to, trees and flowers planted, and repairs made. Once the work was done, families would set out their potluck dishes and share in a communal meal.

Complete Article HERE!

An Ice Cream Truck at the Funeral

And 6 other meaningful ways to incorporate food — and cocktails — into a memorial.

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We mark life’s milestones with festive food and rituals. And culinary traditions can play an important role for mourners, too. Here are 7 ideas for meaningful ways to incorporate food and drink into a memorial.

Bespoke Libations

Personalized, or ‘signature’ custom cocktails (or non-alcoholic mocktails) and craft beers celebrating the unique personalities are increasingly popular at weddings. And they make sense for funerals, too. A special drink, named after and inspired by a loved one, could be served during a toast or at a time when friends and family are invited to share a memory of the deceased. Later, the recipe can be given out to guests. That custom cocktail can be prepared on the deceased birthday or their “deathiversary” — or anytime, really.

Ice Cream Truck

There are numerous cultures around the world that incorporate a special sweet dish or candy into their funeral rituals or feasts to remind mourners that, even amid grief, life is sweet. An envelope with candy may be passed around at Chinese funerals, for example. A great twist on this important sentiment — and I wouldn’t mind incorporating into my own funeral — is the well-timed appearance of an ice cream truck, leaving my loved ones with their last memory of me being one that’s sweet.

Rosemary Bread

On particularly difficult days — like Mother’s Day and Father’s Day — one way I honor my grief (and the memory of those I’ve lost) is by making rosemary tea bread. Rosemary is an herb of remembrance. The Romans used it in burial rites. Shakespeare references it in “Hamlet”: “Ophelia in her madness names plants that were known for their capacity to ease pain, particularly inwardly felt pain” — “There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray, love, remember.” Here’s a recipe.

Funeral Biscuits

Funeral biscuits were paper-wrapped cookies handed out to mourners at funerals or taken door-to-door as an invitation to a funeral. The biscuits first made their appearance in 1600s Europe and were commonplace in America through the early 1900s. The wrappers were custom printed with a poem or prayer and the name of the deceased. Although edible, the biscuits were often kept as keepsakes. A modern version can easily be adapted and created with the help of children, who are so often left out of these important rituals and are seeking a way to express their own grief. Children can decorate the wrapper, and even help with the baking. Here’s a recipe.

Custom Cookbooks

Danielle Oteri, the mastermind behind the foodie website Feast On History, creates custom family cookbooks. Here’s how it works: Oteri’s company, according to its website, will “look at census records and immigration documents. We’ll conduct interviews with you and/or your family members and record the memories and meals that were shared. Next, we’ll research those recipes and delve deep to find out exactly where your relatives came from and what influenced their cooking. Finally, we thoroughly test the recipes and record them so that these wonderful traditions will never again be lost.” Amazing, right?

Vegetable Wreaths


Funeral florist extraordinaire Cassandra Thompson ofStems UK created a stunning memorial wreath made with vegetables. It’s a meaningful tribute for a loved one who enjoyed gardening. You could even use vegetables from their own garden. Another idea for those mourning the loss of a beloved gardener — seeds or plantings could be harvested from their garden to be distributed and replanted

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Funeral Books

If you’ve been to a wedding in the past few years, chances are you’ve been handed a wedding program, featuring photographs of the happy couple, factoids about how they met, details about their families or the story of their first date. Little booklets like these can frequently be found in Thailand as well, but at funerals — not weddings. In Thailand, these memorial books, called nang sue ngam sop, are typically written by the family of the deceased, and contain photographs from graduations, weddings or personal stories and anecdotes. A hallmark of these books are favorite recipes of dishes they were known for cooking (or for enjoying). In fact, recipes from Thai funeral books were the main inspiration for Chef David Thompson’s Nham restaurant, which earned a coveted Michelin Star – the first for Thai cuisine.

Complete Article HERE!