Kitchen Insights by Milarepa Center's Amazing Summer Cook, Nina Tomkiewicz

(We will sorely miss you! Best wishes and please, please, please come back soon.)

Spending the summer months in the Milarepa kitchen has been a dream and a half. Leaving California at the cusp of June to experience Vermont for the first time, I didn't know what to expect, other than life-altering maple syrup and mass amounts of cheddar cheese; those were two things that were accurately forewarned.
The month leading up to my flight, the month of May, was unfortunately but expectedly tumultuous, as I graduated college and felt the collapse of the deeply ingrained conception of 'school' finally falling away. My mind was busy and concerned with the elusive 'future', and I wasn't finding solace in any of the gaps that began to crop up as the distractions of classes fell away. So, I went to another place, to do something that I loved, to be around a philosophy that I was unquestioningly interested in.

I had only spoken on the phone with Rosanne a few times before making my decision to come out. Except for a brief flash of the spice rack posted on the website, I hadn't seen the kitchen, hadn't tested the sharpness of the knives, hadn't assured that it was equipped with a food processor or immersion blender. Not that these things made a shred of difference to me; my main experience kitchen-wise had been throwing together large meals for barbaric students in communal cooperative housing establishments around my campus. (Okay maybe the students weren't quite as unhinged as 'barbaric', needless to say, the experience failed to imbue me with high standards.) To be honest I was a bit apprehensive to cook for anyone who wasn't one of my peers; for people who might actually care whether or not that that onion fell on the floor, or whether I served them with my hands or with a spoon, or if I didn't wear shoes in the kitchen (sorry about that one, Roseanne, some ingrained habitual patterns are more deep than others). Yet speaking with Roseanne granted me relief from any budding anxieties, and I saw this as an opportunity too sweet to pass.

I find it difficult to recount what I did on a day-to-day basis here; how to capture in words the exact gist of my experience. To be analogous and vague, the whole summer has been its own sweeping source of existence that has come and gone just as the sun comes and goes every day. If someone asks you, "how is your day?" you wouldn't say that today the grass is green or the sky is blue, so I find it somewhat irrelevant to say that I chopped garlic or made granola during my time here. More poignantly, I learned this summer, and grew. I have never cooked in a more appreciative space, and found myself apt to fearlessly combine tastes for audiences who always encouraged my efforts. I am very thankful for all the encouragement.
I always held with me the idea that I was putting more into the food than just what my hands were chopping or kneading. I suppose that's something key which pervades all stretches of life – we are always putting more into what we are doing than simply what is tangible.

So to the staff at Milarepa who have contributed to creating the cause for me to be here this summer, I thank you for the warmth that you have provided which extends further than the warmth provided by the sun rays I love to lay in. This experience has been sweeter than the maple syrup in my coffee (please excuse the cheesiness of the analogies, but perhaps cheesiness is a bit appropriate, don't you think?). My summer here has been pivotal, transformative. Not only am I leaving here with insights on bread baking and a few new callouses, but having taken refuge, this life can be guided with a more pure, compassionate intention. I did my best to practice this in your kitchen everyday.