Feeding Ukrainian Refugees in Spain

It’s not what you’d think

As a food writer, it’s my tendency to write about places and moments where food takes center stage. A restaurant, a farm, a Thanksgiving feast, a recipe. For people who love and live to cook and eat, it’s energizing and affirming to talk about food as if it’s the most important thing in the room. And sometimes it actually is. But what happens when it’s not? What happens when the food itself is not only not the most important thing in the room, but the least by a mile? Let me explain. 

Back in the beginning of May, I was supposed to travel to Poland for a week to volunteer with World Central Kitchen cooking meals for Ukrainian refugees who were spilling across the border from Western Ukraine. I’d help prepare food during the day, write at night, meet who I met and see what I saw. My tickets were booked; my bag half-packed. Then two days before my flight I got Covid.