I once saw Julia Child talking about American cooking in the 1950s. She got a big laugh describing how a quivering Jell-o mold “like a lime green phallus” served as high-end cookery. In that same talk, the great chef also said that her favorite food was a baked potato with butter and salt, nothing else. And I realized: deliciousness is simple, even elemental. We arrive on this planet hungry, and we must keep our bodies—and, when we break bread together, those of our neighbors—fed, in order to feed our spirits. To do whatever work we yearn to do.

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