In the past six months, I've attended more meetings that I can count of people trying to figure out what they can "do" in a moment that feels like a crisis. While there are lots of ideas, the most practical one that we seem to keep coming back to, regardless of the group, is getting to know our neighbors.
Back in January I read a piece about "neighborism," which is essentially a community-focused philosophy centered on the belief that real change and support begin at the local, grassroots level rather than through national politics. It emphasizes protecting, caring for, and uplifting every neighbor—regardless of background—by fostering connection, mutual aid, and responsibility for the immediate community. The concept stuck with me; it's almost weird that we have so lost touch with one another that we have to have a name for what used to come naturally in community, just living together. We have to go back to the basics: breaking bread.
When I'm working at the food pantry either bagging groceries for our drive-through grab and go clients (no questions asked, but I do make conversation with them as I'm putting groceries into their cars), or at a community potluck barbecue that just got advertised on social media, or at a volunteer shift like this morning before work when I was standing prepping vegetables in a church kitchen making meals for delivery, there's something about participating in feeding the community that reminds us at the most basic level of our shared humanity.
I was struck this morning in particular that the head chef who was in charge of organizing all of us is an Ecuadorian woman who doesn't speak a lot of English, and the volunteers were all white, mostly non-Spanish speaking, and older than I am ... it was like the inverse of so many restaurant kitchens where many of the staff are Spanish-speaking, and the chef in charge speaks only English. How odd it was to be in that space of trying to communicate and understand what she wanted us to do while we were standing with sharp knives with little counter space and a hot stove, and how I appreciated what it must feel like for immigrants in those shoes who keep showing up at work even when they know that they might be taken. How quickly we all got to laughing together even when the communication was imperfect, even if we didn't know each other before.
It's summer, and maybe no one wants to eat soup, but that's what we were making, and it felt right, regardless of how hot it was in there and how hot it was going to be outside. It's filling, and you can always mop this one up with a tortilla or some chips. I've given you the slow cooker version so you don't have to heat up your kitchen. And best of all, it's the kind of meal you can share with lots of neighbors.
Chicken (or Veg) Posole
2 lbs. boneless, skinless chicken thighs (you can use canned jackfruit for a vegetarian version)
4 c. low-sodium chicken broth
1 medium onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 T. ground cumin
1 T. dried oregano
2 t. chili powder
1 teaspoons kosher salt
2 (15-ounce) cans or 1 (29- to 30-ounce) can hominy, drained and rinsed
Juice of 1 medium lime
Optional toppings:
Fresh cilantro leaves and stems
Thinly sliced radishes
Chopped avocado
Tortilla chips
Place the chicken, broth, onion, poblano, garlic, cumin, chili powder, oregano, and salt in a 5-quart or larger slow cooker and stir to combine. Cover and cook on the LOW setting until the chicken is tender, 6 to 8 hours.
Use 2 forks to shred the chicken in the slow cooker. Stir in the hominy and lime juice. Serve with lime juice or wedges, sliced radishes, fresh cilantro, chopped avocado, or tortilla chips if desired.
