Hey Le Party People!
Rachel Chase is my friend who would survive the Oregon trail. She is hardy AF, builds shit, and frequently hikes all over the world (carrying her provisions and such) — she recently completed a two week adventure in the French Alps. She is intelligent, loyal, kind, cares deeply about her close friends and family, and due to her Midwestern upbringing can take down a piece of corn on the cob in about 15 seconds. She is my corn queen, and I am so grateful to have her in my life. This week, Rachel shares her thoughts on what Radical Hospitality means to her. You can follow her on Instagram @rachreneechase.
Chic,
Jen
Rachel is the 2nd queen from the left
When I think of what radical hospitality means to me, I think of a trip I took to the Patagonian wilderness last winter. I went with a group of students from my MBA program and set out to spend 10 self-reliant days living in tents, cooking our own food, and navigating through wilderness terrain. As someone who loves to eat and who is used to the endless culinary possibilities of New York City, I was worried about the notoriously terrible goopy brown dehydrated backpacking meals. What I encountered, however, was an experience that changed the way I look at the power of food and community.
In teams of nine we'd divide and carry rations through the wilderness; bags of dried vegetables and spices, flour, oats, and pasta, wheat and flaxseed, beans and lentils, blocks of cheese and salami. We would divide the food by size and weight, distributing it to our team based on each person's ability, and adjusting throughout the week as exhaustion and energy levels fluctuated and shifted. At the end of the day, before tents would go up or water would be fetched, each person would empty the contents of their food rations into a pile in the middle of the camp, and as a team, we would come up with an idea for what to make for dinner that evening. As the week went on, we would learn each person's strengths, preferences, and dislikes, and meals became more and more creative. We shifted from basic pasta with red sauce to an imaginative take on shepherd's pie with a lentil and rice filling, and a dehydrated mashed potato and cheese topping. Sure, these aren't meals that you might crave in the real world or seek out recipes for, but in those moments of pure community and togetherness, they represented a true glimpse of what Radical Hospitality can look like. After eating, we'd clean up and talk about how we were feeling physically and emotionally, and if anyone was struggling, others would offer to carry more food to lighten the load. Everyone was always very aware of how each person was doing, and these conversations happened over the food we had all made together. Over these wilderness meals, we would take the time to slow down, to laugh, to listen, to share, and to be radically hospitable to each other and to ourselves.
These moments of Radical Hospitality are ones I remember months later back in the city. Moments where each person comes exactly as they are, with blistered feet and weary backs, and creates something beautiful and life-giving together. This trip made me more confident in the kitchen, more creative with what foods I want to try, and more eager to recreate moments where everyone comes together to contribute to the party and share their true selves.
