Queer as apple pie: Sharing food, love with found family
New cookbooks by gay authors have common elements, including apple cake recipes and celebration of the joys of life with partners
In the queer community, the idea of chosen family is a powerful notion.
In a community where 39 per cent of LGBTQIA-identifying folks reported they had experienced rejection from family and friends (according to a 2013 Pew Research Center study), the concept of a family outside relatives informs many queer relationships. These are the people who affirm us, and we in turn affirm. Acceptance is part of a chosen family, yes, but so is an unconditional love from and for someone whom we’re not related to.
Come fall, I practically keep my oven on at all times, whether I’m braising, roasting or otherwise cooking. Autumn weather brings out my domestic side — summer’s stifling heat is long gone, and my birthday and that of my partner’s fall within two weeks of each other. For this reason, I like to bake us a birthday cake. He’s my person, and cooking for him is as nourishing for me as it is for him. My chosen family starts with him.
Admittedly, I’m not much of a baker, but I obsess over cookbooks, so when two by prominent writers Julia Turshen and Nik Sharma landed on my desk, I tore through them. Turshen in October published her latest book, Now and
Again, a followup to 2016’s Small Victories and Feed the Resistance. Sharma is a recipe columnist for the San Francisco Chronicle and author of Season, and is also a well-known food blogger for his website, A Brown Table. Both authors also happen to be queer.
“Try making a cake for no reason, and you create a moment to celebrate. I think there’s a parallel to queer culture — we as a community celebrate as many moments as we can.” JULIA TURSHEN AUTHOR, NOW AND AGAIN
Interestingly, they have published similar-yet-different cake recipes using that quintessential fall fruit, apples. Both cakes are delightfully easy to make —Turshen’s can be assembled in one bowl — and even easier to eat. But because baking and cooking are, for me, a meditative act, I couldn’t help but think about the recipes as inherently queer. As I was baking the cakes for my partner, these recipes felt like an invitation to get to know the authors on a personal level while nodding to the concept of chosen family.
Check out Turshen’s Instagram, and you’ll see her excitedly sharing photos of readers making her wildly popular applesauce cake topped with sweet-andtart honey cream cheese frosting, which in her book she introduces as a cake she makes for Rosh Hashana. (In her first book, Turshen also has a recipe called Happy Wife, Happy Life cake, dedicated to her wife, entrepreneur Grace Bonney.)
“A cake is not something you make for yourself; it’s something you share,” Turshen said in an interview. “There’s something celebratory about cake, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be. Try making a cake for no reason, and you create a moment to celebrate. I think there’s a parallel to queer culture — we as a community celebrate as many moments as we can, because certain things aren’t always guaranteed. I think taking joy and pride in a moment and all the implications of that — for me, cake physically embodies that.”
According to Turshen, “cookbooks have this amazing ability and power to normalize things like queerness.”
“As objects, they’re so familiar and ordinary, and easily accepted into homes,” she says. “Recipes are love letters, and to see our recipes made in other people’s homes and shared with their families, chosen or nuclear, that’s so powerful.”
For Sharma, who opens Season with his personal story as a gay immigrant from India moving to America, his book is a manifesto for standing in one’s truth. “Once you cross the threshold of coming out, a lot of things become irrelevant,” he said in an interview. “After coming out, I became more confident. You like me or you don’t.”
When he started his blog, Sharma says he experienced a lot of negative comments because he features his brown hands prominently in his gorgeously photographed process shots, which he shot himself. He wavered briefly about continuing A Brown Table, but barrelled forward, writing about his experiences as a gay immigrant. Likewise, his book does not shy away from these stories. “At the end of the day, we’re all looking for acceptance,” he said, “but I think crossing that barrier, I became comfortable in the kitchen and myself.”
Whereas Turshen’s cake is an effortless treat, Sharma’s is a not-too-sweet confection inflected with complex-yetpleasing flavours of masala and tea. Sea- son explores the intersections of Sharma’s native India with American ingredients, while introducing home cooks to concepts like building an Indian pantry, developing flavours and more. “These recipes help me talk about a part of me and how I move through the world,” he said. “My sexuality and skin colour are immutable, and instead of hiding behind a door and trying to please everyone, I’m trying to feed my queer friends and family. My recipes are queer because I am.”
“Neither mine or Nik’s book have pride flags emblazoned on them,” said Turshen. “I get to share part of myself in a medium that people interact differently with, but my life is, in many ways, pretty boring. I’m married with pets at home, and I cook for the person I love, and I bake her cakes because she loves them. It’s intentional when I share that, and it’s powerful to see people cook with that same intent.”
It’s a cliched trope, “food is love,” but it’s hard to escape the truth of it, especially when considering that around this time of year, those queer folks who have been rejected by their families find one another, gather together and break bread with the tribe with whom they feel safe and nourished.
Queer food is a tangible expression of giving, a declaration to come as you are, pull up a seat, make a mess at the table and live life out loud.