Christ in the Kitchen

If I am to carry Christ home with me from the altar, I am afraid He will have to come to the kitchen, because much of my time is spent there . . . If I am to create, and I believe God made me to do just that, why can't I create feast-day specials from eggs and milk and butter? . . . I once tried to paint a picture, but the colors ran and the perspective was poor. I tried to write music, but even the dog howled to hear it. I tried to weave a piece of cloth, but the warp broke and the wool tangled. So I have resolved to stick to my cooking and beat my way to Heaven."

So writes blonde, fortyish Florence Berger, Cincinnati housewife, in a book which may soon set many another Christian cook to beating her way to Heaven too. Roman Catholic Mrs. Berger's special combination of piety and kitchen skill has produced a new kind of cookbook as redolent of Christian lore as of herbs and spices. This week, as the National Catholic Rural Life Conference in Des Moines, Iowa rushed Cooking for Christ into print, Mrs. Berger explained how it all began.

Wear Gloves. Several years ago she described to her good friend, Msgr. Luigi Ligutti, executive secretary of the National Catholic Rural Life Conference, how she had tried to emphasize "the why of religious feast days by preparing special food for the children [she has five], and explaining its significance as they ate.'' Msgr. Ligutti suggested that she make a book of her recipes. The 130 pages that resulted contain 75 recipes, liberally interlarded with explanatory background.

The book is divided according to six liturgical seasons--Advent, Christmastide, Septuagesima, Lent, Paschaltide and Time after Pentecost. Advent, writes Mrs. Berger, is the time to begin to "stir up your plum puddings," which were sometimes regarded as "popish" puddings in Cromwell's 17th Century England. In Advent comes St. Nicholas' Day (Dec. 6)--the time for eating a spiced Dutch cookie called "Speculatius." St. Nicholas' Eve is the time for drinking "Bishop's Wine." (To a bottle of claret, add four inches of stick cinnamon, six cloves, simmer about five minutes and serve hot. "In the chill of the night vigil, it will make you feel like a bishop.")

For St. Patrick's Day, Mrs. Berger has a recipe for cooking nettles. Ireland's patron saint is said to have "blessed this prickly plant which we despise or don't even recognize as it grows around us . . . He had known it by its romantic name of Ivar's Daughter, and he blessed it as useful to man and beast. Gather young nettles for yourself in March of early spring. By all means wear gloves. Serve them as fresh vegetables."

Pretzels for Prayers. On Good Friday, "as early as 590-604, Pope Gregory directed that only bread, salt and vegetables be eaten . . . This is not hard to do to show our love. The bread you ate on Green Thursday may have been scored and twisted like a rope, the rope on which Judas hanged himself; but the bread you eat on Good Friday may follow an old English custom and be signed with the cross." Unexplained is the title of a Lenten concoction called "Gregorian Cocktail" (broiled peppers, broiled onions, broiled tomatoes, catsup, relish, Tabasco sauce, Worcestershire sauce, pickled grape leaves, pepper, salt, mint and chopped walnuts).

Doughnuts, according to Mrs. Berger, were originally a form of "soul cake" given to children in exchange for their prayers; their roundness was meant to symbolize eternity. Pretzels, she says, were once presented by monks to children who had said their prayers (the name is derived from the Latin pretiola, a little reward), and their shape represents a child's arms folded in prayer.

Msgr. Ligutti says of Cooking for Christ: "This book is an extension of the missal, breviary and ritual for the Christian home, and is an extension of the Mass, choir and sacramentals . . . Even a utility apartment can carry out the liturgy of the Church through its makeshift kitchen."

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