Come to the Table: A review of Bread & Wine

I was honored and overjoyed to be an early reader for Bread & Wine, Shauna Niequist's newest book. Shauna's previous books, Cold Tangerines and Bittersweet, have inspired, encouraged and shaped me over the past few years. Hers are the books on my bookshelf that I like to call "extra loved." Creased pages, bubble bath soaked and red wine stained. They never stay on the shelf long, as I constantly pick them up to flip through their worn, familiar pages, hunting for an impactful quote or simply needing a quick refresher on one of the many gems I uncovered within.

Her words, utterly weightless, fly off the page and flutter straight into your heart. I think it's her vulnerability and authentic voice that leave you hungry for more nuggets of wisdom and truth. And it was that same acknowledgment of her humanity and call to a life of authenticity that kept me hanging onto every broken and beautiful word of Bread & Wine.

And in the spirit of authenticity, I must confess that as an early reader I was supposed to post a review of Bread & Wine on my blog no later than one week ago. I started the book the very day it was delivered and finished it the next. With so much to say, I'd been longing to blog about it ever since. But alas, life happened. And I put it off, over and over, always feeling like there was plenty of time for it. And after reading three of Shauna's books, I think I can say with confidence that she would understand. And remind me to be present over perfect and to give myself grace. So rather than apologizing for a delayed blog post, I'm just going to tell you why Bread & Wine is an absolute must-read love letter to life around the table.

As a self-proclaimed foodie, I love food and everything about it. I love the tastes and the smells, the textures and the colors. I love that food is both a love language we speak to and an art we create for those around us. I love that food allows you to get your hands dirty. Whether eating slippery barbecue ribs or kneading floury dough. There's an earthiness to food. It's elemental. Starting with mere powders you can create something that breathes life. I love the way different ingredients come together to form intoxicating smells, the sizzles and pops when you drop bacon in a hot pan, and rhythm of chopping onions and peppers.

I love that anyone can cook. And that the most delicious dishes never come from a recipe but from experimenting with this and that while dancing across the kitchen and pouring in extra love.

Most of all, I love the way food nourishes in a combination of physical and spiritual fulfillment that can only be characterized as divine. With food, we can say I love you, I'm for you, I'm sorry, and I'm here. We do that, as Shauna knows and expresses, around the table. By inviting the people we love or even those we just met to join us in the sacred act of sharing a meal together. And while passing plates and filling wine glasses, we share not only a meal, but a conversation that forms community. Food is the element that breaks down all barriers, reminds us of our common humanity, and brings us together to fill each other up.

My heart has always known this, but Bread & Wine brought words and understanding to my burning passion for eating, cooking, and feeding people. One I always assumed was just the fat kid in me dying to come back out to play.

Yes, this book is filled with delicious recipes. I've already made the dark chocolate sea salted toffee, and it is as heavenly as it was low maintenance to make, an odd combination in desserts. I did my own spinoff on the risotto, and was shocked that it came out not only edible, but absolutely scrumptious despite the fact that it was my first try at the Italian dish. The recipes are wonderful, easy to follow if you don't speak the culinary language, and full of helpful tips for first-timers.

But as Shauna proclaims, "This isn't about recipes. This is about a family, a tribe, a little band of people who walk through it all together, up close and in the mess, real time and unvarnished."

It's so easy to let our busy schedule and messy home and imperfect lives keep us from opening the door. Shame creeps in so quickly and we think everyone else has it all together and that if we open our homes, we'll be discovered for what we really are: human. But you know what that does? It tells those around us that they can come in as they are. Unmasked and messy. It invites them to be vulnerable and admit they aren't perfect either. It opens the door to authentic community, something I'm convinced after reading this book we were absolutely created to experience.

You don't have to make everything from scratch. You can order takeout or simply put some cheese and crackers on a plate (this totally counts as dinner in my book, and I'm sure Shauna would agree). And you don't need fancy china to gather around the table. Or even a table for that matter. I live in a tiny one bedroom apartment and most often serve dinner on the floor, since the only table I have is a bar  overlooking the kitchen that seats two.

Shauna's not talking about entertaining in a way that reinforces the facade of perfect or the myth that one can actually have it all together. On the contrary, she says "I'm talking about feeding someone with honesty and intimacy and love, about making your home a place where people are fiercely protected, even just for a few hours, from the crush and cruelty of life." It's about "creating a soft and safe place for people to connect and rest."

We all have that power. Whether we consider ourselves cooks or not. Whether we have a dinning room table that comfortably seats 20 or a living room couch and floor that uncomfortably seats 10.

Amid advocating for life around the table in the midst of imperfection, Shauna gives us permission that so many of us so desperately need.

Permission "to be tired, to be weak, to need." Permission to stop believing the myth that we're in control. Permission to fear change, but to step toward it anyway. Permission to "taste and smell and experience the biggest possible world, because every bit of it, every taste and texture and flavor, is delicious."

Permission to accept help. Permission to dare to journey into the unfamiliar. Permission to take it one baby step at a time. Permission to dance between feasting and fasting. Permission to release what our fists have too long been clenching. Permission not to know the details. And to be a bit anxious about it. Permission to slow down and rest. Permission to be "present over perfect." Permission to nourish and be nourished, just as we are.

And to do it all at the table. Together. In our own home and in the homes of others. With two holy ingredients: bread and wine.

Bread & Wine is in fact a love letter. To life around the table and so much more. It sings a song of truth in a world of fake. Truth that flutters off the page and takes root in your heart, transforming you and even those around you if you let it.

Stepping into bits and pieces of Shauna's story, you come to know her as she really is. Not just spunky, brave, creative and loving. But often messy, tired, overspent, shameful and scared. Human. Broken and beautiful.  Just like each of us. Her vulnerability allows her voice to paint the pages of this book with a picture of another way of living.

Bread & Wine is an anthem for authenticity. A call to community. An invitation to life around the table. A sacred space, "the hospital bed, the place of healing [that] becomes a place of relearning and reeducating, the place where value and love are communicated."

I'm tired of running full-speed, striving for perfect and hiding from community.

I'm ready to come to the table.

Are you?