“I’m just someone who loves cooking and for whom sharing food is a form of expression.” ~Maya Angelou
A great portion of my time off is spent in my kitchen. It is the place I feel most like myself and can let the rest of the world revolve as it wants to outside my kitchen walls. My father loved to cook and was one of those talented people who could open the fridge, combine a bunch of ingredients and come up with something really tasty. (don’t ask about the scrambled eggs made with eggnog – that was an epic fail)
My mom was also a good cook but was very much a recipe follower and rarely threw caution to the wind when it came to her ingredients. My brother and I both grew up watching the family dynamic in the kitchen and quickly began to love cooking. My foray into kitchen triumphs began with my Easy-Bake Oven and I remember my brother in his teens making homemade crepes for our family for dinner.
Cooking, for me, really is a form of expression. It allows me to connect with others on a level far beyond conversation and it lets me share myself with other people. There is no bad day that can’t be made a little better with something yummy that has been made at home. There is an invisible ingredient that makes it taste so much better than any food you can buy at a store or a restaurant.
If I ever have a bad day or want to make someone else’s day a little bit brighter, you know where I’ll be.
“Of course you can bring a friend. Or two.” The table(s) and multiple chairs around family holiday celebrations were epic. Recipe and food planning was executed with flare and an adventurous spirit months in advance of the occasion. My sister-in-law and I share food-feted memories often. I dare not dazzle you with our expertise at planning family holiday gatherings because then I’d have to segue into our memorable funeral celebrations…..
Dang. All I wanna do is hide from my kitchen. I haaaaate cooking.