There truly is nothing better than ending a long work day
or week with a beautifully home cooked meal, glass of red wine in hand,
the sweet aromas wafting from the pot filling your nostrils, and the simmering
sounds filling the kitchen with soft notes. It’s almost a therapeutic and methodical relaxation from, well for me that is, which I fear is almost a dying
art.
With our chaotic lives and schedules we may have lost the
most simplest yet gratifying form of just being and enjoying the most sacred
area in the house. It’s an area which brings couples and families together but
we have moved ourselves away from it. We’ve taken away the essence of cooking
and all that came with it – growing our own herbs, fetching eggs from the coop
. . . it all makes me yearn for the farm life, one very special farm in particular,
with modern conveniences but the aromas of a meal cooked with love . . .
completed with country honey and peanut butter.
A fellow workmate recently returned from a family vacation
in Poland and shared fond stories of home cooked meals, made from scratch, which
they all enjoyed and prepared each day . . . even the pasta and tortillas! What
I loved is how it seemed to bring them all together and made for fond memories.
And all she wanted to do this weekend was cook. I loved that! Which inspired me
to make a healthy pizza from scratch (which I have to anyhow, silly food
allergies).
It's a simple act, but it was just what I needed. What my soul needed.