Food, wonderful food!

I do this thing when I am down, where I cook like a mad woman. When ever life gets tough, this cookie gets going into the kitchen. It is something I have done for as long as I have been an adult. I didn't cook when I was a child and trust me, no one wanted me to. The few things I could produce back then were barely edible and often times had the odor of something decomposing from years gone by.

It's different now. I love to cook and almost never use a recipe. I am an accomplished cook. I became one when I had my family and had to produce enough food for 5-6 people on a single person's budget. With Jesus nowhere in sight, I was left to pray over the food and try and help it multiply. Since those days so long ago now, I turn to the kitchen for refuge when I have a problem I can't figure out or am just feeling the blues. Some snappy music on the radio and an idea for dinner will keep me off the streets and out of trouble for hours. In my kitchen I can let my mind think about savory and sweet, the right aromatics, the perfect garnish and temperature control. I surround myself with colorful food and spices and allow myself to try new things, experimenting with textures and flavors. I immerse myself fully into my flurry of activity without a thought to what drove me there in the first place.

One might project with my kitchen dependency I might be over eating. Not so. I love to feed others. I am almost never hungry while I am cooking. Cooking takes concentration and diligence and anytime eating is merely a taste here and there for quality assurance. It is a win/win situation for me. I get to cook and savor every aroma and morsel carefully laid out on the plate all the while giving it away to my family and friends who lavish praise on my abilities.

I am not depressed, I am thinking. Being in a quandary is not the same as being depressed. Depression keeps you from doing much of anything. This is me having an unsolvable problem, albeit temporary, and getting my mind off of it. I am a writer. We are thinkers by sheer nature, so often my thoughts are rambling around bumping and crashing into each other with no productive outcome. In these times it's time for me to step back, preferably into the kitchen and forget about it. The problem doesn't go away, but I will admit for one of the very few times, that I am not always required to fix everything as often as I think I am. Sometimes the problem or the other person does the fixing without any help from me. Stunning isn't it? I could hardly believe it either, when I first discovered that could happen if I just butted out long enough to allow it. Not everything needs my direct input. Having said that, I will tell you this...Sometimes I actually make things worse by trying to "fix" it all the time. I will let you absorb that for a moment. I, too, was gobsmacked at the very possibility.

Once I figured out that my "help" might turn things to an even worse place, I decided I needed to have some activity to keep my nimble and nosey mind occupied. I go to my kitchen and let my creative juices flow. I can "fix" dinner without compromising big personal ethics or stepping on innocent toes. I can "fix" every dinner from now until the end of time and no one will complain.

Right now, we are eating exceptionally well. The good news is I am in the kitchen producing some of my best work. The downside is I am still stuck in a quandary, but I am letting go of it long enough to see my family enjoy the fruits and vegetables of my labor.

Yesterday was a decadent plateful of homemade fried ravioli stuffed with four cheeses, spinach and Porto Bella mushrooms, lightly topped with a garlic cream sauce and a side of roasted asparagus garnished with sweet red peppers. Tonight it will be seared tilapia, topped with sweet and spicy apricot, ginger glaze, whipped cauliflower with a chipotle seasoning, steamed vegetables and homemade ras,black and blue berry pie. I announce the menu in the morning as if I were bringing another child into the world. Michael, my biggest fan, oohs and ahhs while producing thunderous applause. He pulls me in close to me and whispers gently inmy ear, "How are you feeling, Baby?" I see his concerned expression on his face and smile at my love. "I'm OK." Michael kisses my face and says, "Take all the time you need." With that I look at my darling, knowing that this is his personal quandary. The longer I am pondering, the better his packed lunches are. He would never admit it, but I think he gives me my space, so I'll wallow just a few days more and keep the home fires burning, so to speak. I can't blame him, the food I produce when I am totally happy is crap.