Community Through Kitchens

By Ella Pecor and Callie Garnett
September 9, 2024

Somewhere on the shores of Massawepie Lake lies a small kitchen with numerous pots and pans and a myriad of well-loved cookbooks, but no running water. Beyond the stove, a patchwork of wooden tables fit together to become the gathering place for eleven intrepid St. Lawrence students. Through the unveiling of cook partners to the chaotic passing of bowls at dinner and the sharing of coffee each morning, these newly inducted Arcadians are making Massawepie their home.

Every night around 6:30pm, the chime of a bell rings out through the pines, letting the occupants of the yurt village know that it is time for dinner. Leaving partially completed homework and half-written letters behind, everyone rushes to the kitchen, excited to see what has been prepared that evening. The rumble of hungry stomachs and animated chatter fills the room as people find their seats, and then the noise slowly dies down as the room’s attention turns to that night’s chefs. The meal is introduced, often accompanied by appreciative hums from those seated around the table, and words of wisdom are shared in the form of a quotation selected by the cooks. Immediately following the quotation, silence is abruptly broken by the banging of many hands on the table. A loud drum roll and a collective whoop of sheer joy commence the passing of dishes around the table, a tradition that has been passed down through generations of Arcadians.

Coming from eleven different kitchens, each individual brings their own traditions and perspectives to our table. Arcadian Clara Locke says, “My family’s dinner table conversations always last for hours. They’re some of my favorite memories.” Meanwhile, Arcadian Kaya Williams tells us that her family’s dinners are filled with “love and chaos.” For some Arcadians, taking on the role of chef for as many as thirteen people seemed like a daunting task. Thus, students were thoughtfully divided into pairs based on comfort and skill in the kitchen. These pairs—known as cook groups—are responsible for producing a dinner and breakfast one day each week. Cook groups spend hours together planning and executing meals and then working together to wash dishes afterwards, fostering teamwork and friendship along the way.

At first, portions were too big, and leftovers quickly piled up in our tiny fridge. Then came the egg shortage, brought on by the fact that we cannot canoe to the grocery store and must wait until the directors decide they can’t stomach another tofu scramble or flaxseed brownie. Thankfully for both our guts and spirits, each cook group became comfortable in the kitchen very quickly. Director Jacob McCoola even admitted that he was amazed by how early in the semester everyone began pumping out culinary masterpieces.

Whether we’re dining on fried rice or tacos, the best part of each meal is being able to spend quality time together. Without outside distractions like cell phones, conversations last hours and cause tears of joy, inspire lots of singing, and spark intense debates. Even after the food is long gone, you will often find folks still seated around the table continuing to share their lives with one another.

Once a week, we work together to haul orange plastic containers full of brightly colored peppers, onions, carrots, zucchini, and tomatoes from the barge up to the kitchen. These crates of fruits and vegetables come from a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) with Kent Family Growers in Lisbon, New York. A CSA means that we pay for a share of the produce before the growing season, allowing the farmers to purchase seeds and fund the work that is necessary. Then, when the harvest comes around, we get a “share” of the crops. Our CSA helps us support our North Country community by sustaining ethical growing practices and forming connections with local farmers like the Kents. It also supports the community we are building here at Arcadia by providing us with lots of healthy food. As Arcadian Roy Duffy puts it, “My stomach has never been happier.”

Additionally, it creates opportunities for place-based learning, one of the core values of the Adirondack Semester. By giving students a chance to cook meals with seasonal veggies that change over the course of the semester, this food system enables students to learn about the agriculture of the Adirondacks through their kitchen adventures. In a few weeks we will further this learning with a field trip to Essex County for a deeper look into where our food comes from. We will tour both Mace Chasm where we get our meat and North Country Creamery where we obtain our dairy products, including an Arcadian breakfast favorite: maple yogurt.

Although mealtimes can be chaotic, it is the principal way in which we build our unique Arcadian community. Family-style breakfasts and dinners set the stage for a multitude of conversations that allow us to form deeper connections and understand each other better as a whole group. Cook groups allow us to bond one-on-one with someone else in the community, and there is ample time when cooking or cleaning to have meaningful conversations together. Even when we have meals outside of our tiny kitchen, our lively conversation and sense of community stay strong.

This past weekend we ventured beyond the yurt village to Saranac Lake and Lake Placid to experience town life in the Adirondacks. After attempting to watch the finish of the Adirondack Canoe Classic (commonly known as the 90-miler), only to discover that the final day of the race had been cancelled due to inclement weather, our stomachs reminded us of our primal need to fill them with good food. Miles from our own kitchen in the woods, we settled on having lunch at a local sandwich shop in Lake Placid. As we waited excitedly for our food, we couldn’t resist the urge to sing along to the pop music playing over the restaurant speakers. It didn’t take long before we were louder than the music, and we soon realized that we were the loudest group in the room, not because of our large number, but because we didn’t have any phones to distract us from each other’s company.

In only a few short weeks in the presence of one another, we have already recognized the power of living intentionally, as we try our best to do at Arcadia. Without things like cook groups, chaos-filled dinner, and a low-technology lifestyle, we would not be able to foster such a special bond between the members of our small community. It’s crazy to think of how close we have become in just a few weeks together. Whenever this sentiment is brought up, the words “and it’s only the beginning” follow. The bond we are forming will only strengthen as the semester continues. The eleven strangers who filled the seats around the table the first night at Arcadia—what feels like an eternity ago!—have begun to grow into lifelong friends who will continue to gather together for meals around kitchen tables for many years to come.

Somewhere on the shores of Massawepie Lake lies a small kitchen where eleven friends are gathering around their table. After a day of exploring town, tired bodies collapse into the wooden chairs, grateful to spend time with each other back in their peaceful village. With the sun long since gone, the room is illuminated by warm lighting and the glow of the woodstove in the corner. Hands are wrapped around mugs of tea or hot chocolate, and for the time being all worries are forgotten as the smell of garlic and tomato sauce envelops the room. Anecdotes from the day’s adventures are passed down the table alongside bowls of pasta and veggies, and on such a cold night, we appreciate the warmth of the community we are building, and we are thankful for the time we have in this wonderful place. It’s the simple things, like a meal cooked and eaten around our kitchen table, that fill our remote life with so much joy.