{"id":11096,"date":"2026-06-16T15:49:54","date_gmt":"2026-06-16T19:49:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/gastronomyblog\/?p=11096"},"modified":"2026-06-16T15:49:54","modified_gmt":"2026-06-16T19:49:54","slug":"student-summer-symposium-ruthie-collins","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/gastronomyblog\/2026\/06\/16\/student-summer-symposium-ruthie-collins\/","title":{"rendered":"Student Summer Symposium: Ruthie Collins"},"content":{"rendered":"

From recipe testing, to ethnography, to archives, to even appetizers, our 2026 Student Summer Symposium<\/strong> showcases the many ways our students think, create, and write about food.<\/em><\/p>\n

\n

Feminine Fire: Stirring the Pot, Shaping the World
\nBy Ruthie Collins<\/span><\/h2>\n

Once upon a time, someone, somewhere, decided a woman\u2019s place was in the kitchen. Said it like a curse . . . as if the worst thing a woman could be was barefoot while basting a turkey. But what if we reclaimed that phrase? What if, in 2026, a woman\u2019s place is wherever she chooses to be, including the kitchen, not out of obligation, but from passion? What if we revisit women\u2019s lib again and place ourselves <\/i>in the kitchen because of our desire to immerse ourselves in the process of cooking and need for a creative outlet, and not because of a stereotype? When I cook, I am not performing a chore, I\u2019m designing. The kitchen is where I go to remember who I am. It\u2019s where I feel rooted and radiant. It\u2019s where I can pour intuition, tenderness, and power into something tangible. And I actually like it there. There was a time when we fought so hard to get out of the kitchen, and now we\u2019re finding ourselves ready to waltz back in with our heads held high, our knives sharp, and our playlists loud because we want to claim it as ours.<\/p>\n

For me, the kitchen is my studio. My sanctuary. My rebel garden is where I toss in a little chaos and a lot of herbs and see what blooms. I feel like the most authentic version of myself when I\u2019m elbow-deep in lemon zest and olive oil. No performance and no pressure. Just me, a flame, and something good coming together in a pan. Women have been trailblazers and doing bold things, building legacies, and changing the world for decades. And while I love a power suit and a corner office as much as the next gal, I\u2019d like to raise a wooden spoon to another kind of leader: the woman who leads from the kitchen. You know the type. Maybe you were raised by one. I was. My mother didn\u2019t just cook, she orchestrated. She didn\u2019t measure spices, she felt them. She didn\u2019t follow recipes, but she remembered them. She sang to her sauce, whispered sweet nothings to her roast, and somehow always had enough to feed one more soul who stopped by hungry. Her cooking was about connection. She nourished others while keeping her hands busy and letting her heart lead the way. My mother was a quiet kind of artist, but her magic wasn\u2019t in using a plate as a canvas. She found joy in its cadence: slicing, stirring, tasting. She\u2019d hum along to Pink Floyd playing in the background on our record player while peeling potatoes, sometimes whispering to the herbs like they were old friends.<\/p>\n

She would submerge herself in the scents that emanated from her efforts. For her,<\/span>cooking wasn\u2019t a task. It was a kind of ritual . . . a way to keep the family connected and the past alive. And the women before her? Legends. Mythmakers. My ancestors were such gossip queens. They\u2019d gather around the kitchen table with a bushel of onions and turn that tear-jerking chore into a full-blown storytelling session. Stuffed onions were their specialty, filled with rice, seasoned beef, Mexican spices, and family secrets. The peeling, scooping, and filling were all done with a rhythm passed down like folklore. They didn\u2019t need measuring cups. They had instinct, memory, and just the right-sized palms. And while their hands worked, their mouths worked harder. They laughed, they cried, and they lived in that kitchen. Through inherited energy passed on through time, they taught me that food is never just food. It\u2019s love, memory, and a little magic rolled into one.<\/p>\n

So, here I am now, decades later, in my own kitchen. I am barefoot sometimes, not pregnant (I\u2019ve done my time), but always the boss. Not because I\u2019m expected to be here, but because I choose to. Because this is where I come alive. Because this is where I get to be both soft and strong, nurturer and artist. I carry my ancestors with me every time I step into my kitchen. Each time I cook, they\u2019re there in the scent of caramelized onion, in the hiss of butter hitting a hot skillet, and in the instinct to add \u201cjust a little more\u201d even when the recipe says otherwise. Their presence reminds me that the kitchen has always been a place of feminine power, steady and enduring.<\/p>\n

And to honor that and honor them, I want to share an ancestral meal that tastes like feminine fire: bold, floral, sweet, and unexpected. Mexican-stuffed onions that say, \u201cYes, I made this. And yes, I am that woman.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

Mexican-Stuffed Onions<\/b><\/h2>\n

These onions are like tiny edible love letters, each filled with savory rice, toasted pepitas, and a smoky-spicy flavor that makes your heart ache in the best way. Perfect as a side dish or main, and even better reheated the next day (because we love leftovers like we love our female ancestors – warm, flavorful, and full of stories).<\/p>\n

Serves:<\/b> 6 as a side, 3 as a main<\/p>\n

Ingredients:<\/b><\/p>\n

6 medium red onions, peeled<\/p>\n

1 tbsp olive oil<\/p>\n

<\/span>For Filling:<\/b><\/p>\n

2 lbs ground beef (I use 93% lean)<\/p>\n

2 garlic cloves, minced<\/p>\n

1 tsp ground cumin<\/p>\n

1 tsp smoked paprika<\/p>\n

1 chipotle pepper in adobo, finely chopped (or to taste)<\/p>\n

1 \u00bd cups cooked rice (white or brown)<\/p>\n

\u00bd cup black beans, drained and rinsed<\/p>\n

\u00bc cup toasted pepitas (pumpkin seeds)<\/p>\n

\u00bc cup queso fresco or cotija, crumbled (optional)<\/p>\n

2 tbsp chopped fresh cilantro<\/p>\n

Salt and pepper to taste<\/p>\n

A squeeze of lime<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Instructions:<\/b><\/p>\n

Prep the onions:<\/b><\/p>\n

Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Slice the tops off the onions and carefully core them with a spoon or melon baller, leaving 2-3 outer layers intact to make little onion \u201ccups.\u201d (Reserve the scooped-out centers. Just trust me.) Boil the hollowed onions for 5\u20137 minutes until tender but not falling apart. Drain and let cool.<\/p>\n

Make the filling:<\/b><\/p>\n

Chop the reserved onion centers and saut\u00e9 in olive oil with the ground beef and garlic until soft. Stir in cumin, paprika, chipotle, and a pinch of salt. Add rice, beans, and pepitas. Warm through. Remove from heat and fold in cilantro, lime juice, and queso if using. Taste and adjust seasoning.<\/p>\n

Stuff the onions:<\/b><\/p>\n

Spoon the filling into each onion shell. Nestle them in a baking dish, drizzle with olive oil, and bake at 375\u00b0F for 15\u201320 minutes until everything is heated and the tops are golden.<\/p>\n

To serve:<\/b><\/p>\n

Top with extra queso, cilantro, or a drizzle of crema. Serve with warm tortillas or alongside a big green salad.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

From recipe testing, to ethnography, to archives, to even appetizers, our 2026 Student Summer Symposium showcases the many ways our students think, create, and write about food. Feminine Fire: Stirring the Pot, Shaping the World By Ruthie Collins Once upon a time, someone, somewhere, decided a woman\u2019s place was in the kitchen. Said it like […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":25896,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[27,984],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/gastronomyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11096"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/gastronomyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/gastronomyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/gastronomyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/25896"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/gastronomyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=11096"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/gastronomyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11096\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":11102,"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/gastronomyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11096\/revisions\/11102"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/gastronomyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=11096"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/gastronomyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=11096"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.bu.edu\/gastronomyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=11096"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}