The Toe: a rambunctious house of seven best friends.

 

To clarify, we’re not in love with the name of our house. But, with our home being on the corner of Tappan, Oakland, and East University, this name seemed to catch on quick. A little too quick.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I met my housemates nearly four years ago, amidst the madness of my freshman year. I had a difficult time adjusting to college life. I was four hours away from home and did not know a single person at Michigan. So, with the hopes of finding friends, I decided to join a sorority. 

 

I met my housemates after we all joined the same sorority, and we quickly became friends. We were seven of 64 new members, so I think we all clung on to each other for the sake of sanity. It felt good to walk into an event with at least a few familiar faces. To be honest, I didn't think that these friendships would last. A voice major, a few engineers, some business majors and a science geek made for an unusual combination. To make matters worse, we were from different states, had different friend groups, and even had varied relationship statuses. I left that all of us were wildly individual and unique and had very little to hold us together. However, as the year went on and we got more comfortable in our new sorority, our friendship grew deeper.

 

We started to want to hang out outside of the events that our sorority hosted. We tried to spend time in our dorm rooms, but it's not easy to feel comfortable in a closet-sized room. So, we did the one thing that everyone has to do: we ate.  

 

Weekly dinners turned into the highlight of my week. I was iffy about this at first. I really hated eating on campus. The kitchen was isolated and oddly invisible. I could walk into the dining room and have no idea – not even a clue – as to what was on the menu for the night. The smells were gone. Meal times had just become a necessity for the day, a task to be completed. 

 

With the company of my friends, however, I looked forward to eating in the dining hall. I was able to see past the pile of mush and acknowledge that the dining hall was more than just a place to eat. It was a place to talk, laugh, and make friends. 

 

***

 

The following year, I moved into the sorority house. Compared to the massive size of the dining halls, this house's dining area seemed much more similar to what I was most comfortable with. However, I still felt out of touch with the cooking. I got to know the chef; I was even able to make requests! But, I was not allowed in the kitchen. I could not cook. 

 

Despite my frustration, eating dinner in the house was still one of my favorite activities. Dinner time did not just unite my friend group, but all 60 of the girls living in the house. The joy that filled this room made it not only one of the most inviting places in the house, but on the entire campus. 

 

***

 

It wasn’t until my junior year, while living in the Toe, that I could start cooking again.

 

Don't get me wrong, the kitchen was not glorious. The stove-top burners weren’t level and the electric heat was almost impossible to control. Smoke escaped through the oven and billowed out of the burners every time it was being used. Our counter was the size of a small coffee table and there was barely enough room for a cutting board. But, I could cook. I could feel at home. 

 

Better yet, I could continue to share my love of food with my housemates. Instead of eating mediocre food from the dining halls or the sorority chef, we could cook for each other! As we grew more comfortable with the house, we began to swap recipes and share dinners, creating a dance routine as we weaved through our crowded kitchen.

 

My Jewish friend, Maya, taught us how her family makes Shakshuka - an egg dish with delicious tomatoes, cheese, and bread. Isha cooked us her favorite Indian meals.  Every Friday, we’d host a family Shabbat dinner. Even our game days were focused on making breakfast together. It’s like our social lives continued to revolve around food but, this time, it focused specifically on cooking. 

 

My favorite memories are from these dinners and from the conversations that we've had in the kitchen. As we navigated around in the small room, waiting for our turn to use the stove, we navigated through our lives. We talked about the good and the bad. It became a safe place. 

 

We would return home from the bars and unite in the kitchen, heating up our food, giggling about what we saw, and reliving the conversations we had. Laughter would bounce off of the walls along with the smell of our late night snacks. This end of the night ritual was, without a doubt, the best part of our night.

 

And, while so much joy surrounds this kitchen, it also became the place to talk about the challenges that college presented. 

 

As I stood over a searing pan of chicken, I learned that my roommate was struggling with her mental health. I watched Madeline chop at our kitchen island as I came to terms with the surgery I had to face following a ski accident. I saw countless pre-exam meltdowns and freakouts. However, with every challenge that arose, we grew closer. We figured it out together.

 

These emotions and conversations didn't happen in the living room or a bedroom. Instead, they happened with the comfort of food, the distraction of cooking, and (perhaps) a glass of wine or two. I am confident that if it weren't for the Toe's kitchen, I wouldn’t have experienced the emotional growth, cultural exploration, or pure joy that I have over the last two years. 

 

***

 

Every year, my relationship with food is altered. In a way, that is the beauty of cooking. It fulfills a unique role in everybody’s lives. It fills a void that, perhaps, we didn't even know existed. For my dad, the hours that he puts into the kitchen are a way to demonstrate his love for the family. As a senior in college, cooking allows me to take a creative, explorative, break from my stoic and rigid coursework. For all of the Toe housemates, making food is a social event.

 

Cooking can be a way to learn about a new place. Cooking can be a way to communicate traditions and history, a way to honor what is locally grown. Cooking can be exactly what you want it to be. Get inspired. Learn. Create. Share. Cook.