Proudly displaying her palm, Kim Crutcher says she has her great-grandmother’s hands–the hands that made the best caramel frosting she’s ever tasted. The recipe is written down, but Crutcher is the only member of her family who can replicate the taste. “I inherited a recipe with my hands,” she says. She tells of her bedridden great-grandmother, paralyzed by a stroke, yelling out instructions to her in the kitchen regarding the specifics of timing and measurements. Crutcher takes on the voice of her great-grandmother and leans her body into the actions she describes.
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
It’s stories like this that Crutcher hopes to use in her next play, “Mother Tongue,” in which she plans to investigate the emotional connections people have to food, the memories locked in taste. She envisions a montage of characters connected with spices. Cumin, for instance, reminds her of a guitar player she used to date. Sassafras reminds her of her grandfather, who would treat her to the sweet and spicy tea, made from bark, after she helped him chop wood for the stove. “I think that there’s a hidden story in food,” Crutcher says. “So much happens on the tongue–all of our living happens here.”
Thompson’s experience was similar. She notes that black actresses are too often cast as prostitutes, maids, or the spiritual salvation for white people. “If you really comb through American theater right now, you don’t always find the roles available for the breadth of talent out there,” she says.
–Jenn Goddu
