My brain was both foggy and zinging with my to do list. My body felt restless from too many meetings, but at the same time craved crawling into bed. Many nights I came home after nine PM after a full day and fried some frozen veggies, added steamed rice, and poured some bottled sauce on top before taking my dinner feast into bed with me. My tongue was unsatisfied and the cells of my body yearned for more.

I was burnt out.

So, I quit my full-time job to focus on projects, side hustles, and activism. My goal was to spend more time amongst the rain-soaked cedars, read, write, and learn to cook for myself. As it turned out, learning to cook for myself meant I could also make meals for friends who were grieving.

When grieving—whether the loss of your mom, your dog, or your belief in a better world—it’s important to know that the world shares your pain. Tears are salty. The sea is salty. Grief food is salty. Add soy sauce.

Noodles are a balm. The starch forms a kind of Band-Aid across the pain and allows you to stitch your life back together even with the newfound absence. The comfortable heaviness in your stomach may also allow eyes to close and the griever to fall into a gentle slumber. Any type of noodle will do, but choose with care: nothing is more dispiriting than a soggy and uninspired noodle.

Don’t allow grief food to be too dark. When sadness has settled upon you, the world already looks dark enough. Food needs the bright greens of peas and herbs, and the cheering orange of carrots. The flavour should also be bright, meaning lime and ginger are a must. Don’t hold back from providing a rainbow in the bowl. Picking out colourful veggies one-by-one with chopsticks is one of the sincerest pleasures of life.

It’s important to include texture. In the land of grief, our worlds may become grey blobs without any highs and lows, nothing to really bite into. Sesame seeds will do the trick and make sure there’s some vegetable crunch, too.

Grief penetrates deeply, to the core of our being and rearranges our essence in its image. Food has the capacity to heal the cells of our body because the cells are created by the food-energy we feed them. Let’s rearrange our cells to look like a bundle of cilantro rather than the wilted bouquets of heartbreak. Start with a good meal and we’ll go from there. I’ll bring soba noodle salad. It will heal both of our grief.

Peas & carrots soba noodle salad

Prep time: 25 minutes if you know what you’re doing

Cook time: please don’t overcook the soba noodles

Total time: 32 minutes if your kitchen isn’t overly messy and you don’t collapse into a pile of tears

Ingredients

Soba

• 2-3 bundles of soba noodles
• frozen organic edamame if you have it
• as many sugar snap peas or snow peas as makes you happy
• lots of medium-sized carrots peeled, or extra-large carrots julienned with a peeler
• bundle of chopped fresh cilantro (if you don’t hate it – why is cilantro so divisive?)
• as many sesame seeds as brings you joy

Ginger-sesame sauce

• 3 tablespoons soy sauce
• 2 tablespoons oil – EVOO or similar
• 1 small lime
• 1 tablespoon sesame oil
• 1 tablespoon sweetener – maple syrup is the best for adding sweetness to life
• 1 tablespoon miso
• 2 teaspoons freshly grated ginger to add some zip
• 1 teaspoon spicy stuff

 WHAT TO DO

1. Chop, julienne, slice veggies. Or just leave them be.
2. Combine sauce ingredients. No big deal.
3. If your sesame seeds aren’t toasted, toast them. But don’t burn them.
4. Boil water.
5. Cook soba and edamame. Add the peas at the last minute if you want. Drain everything.
6. Combine ingredients. Serve to friends experiencing grief.

Nadine Nakagawa is an organizer, activist, intersectional feminist, creative writer, social justice fairy, and city councillor. She co-owns a consulting business called Ablaze Services and is the co-founder of the Feminist Campaign School. When not working on community projects, Nadine prances with delight towards patches of wildflowers, wears flower crowns and dresses that encourage twirling, and can be found hugging trees and embracing whimsy.