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Stuffed

I was fortunate to be able to host my in-laws for Thanksgiving again this year.  Because it was going to be a small gathering – just 8 of us – we tried not to overplan or over-cook.  We didn’t enjoy ‘the big meal’ until evening, around 5:30.  We needed to work around some third shift schedules and such.  

We roasted the turkey and had dressing, cranberry relish, sweet potatoes and brussel sprouts for sides.  My sister-in-law brought a veggie tray and salad with all kinds of fixings.  My in-laws brought homemade bread, rum cake, and apple pie.  I had also made a pumpkin pie and cookies.

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I was quite disappointed with the meal – the parts that I was in charge of  – the turkey and sides.  Nothing tasted special or good enough.  It was just food.  Nothing special.

But, as is customary, we ate leftovers for the next couple of days.   The exact same food – reheated.  All of it smashed together on a plate.  And other than adding some salt – which most of the dishes did need – there was nothing else done to prep the food for reheating.

And, you know what, the leftovers were great.  I mean really good food!  It didn’t seem like leftovers and I wasn’t disappointed that I was eating them over and over again.

At first, I couldn’t figure it out.  How had this same food tasted so boring and really bad on Thanksgiving day?

My only explanation is that I was already stuffed when we sat down to eat.  We had a light lunch, but had snacked around all day in anticipation for the big meal.  I wasn’t a bit hungry when I sat down to eat.  As a result, the food tasted bad.  I didn’t need it.  I’m not sure I even wanted it.

But, the next two days, when I wasn’t cooking because we were having leftovers.  I was hungry.  The food was great.

Here’s what I learned: food only tastes good when I’m hungry; and more importantly, it tastes bad when I’m already stuffed.

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Posted by on November 27, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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I’m Loved

When I was in college, my mom was in the hospital having surgery.  To pass the time, she copied some of her most used recipes onto note cards and gave them to me in an index card box.  It was blue and plastic.

I lived in a dorm and had no access to a kitchen.  I hadn’t even cooked much with my mom growing up.  There are a few classic pictures of me licking the beaters and such while making cookies or cake.  But, my main kitchen job was unloading and loading the dishwasher.

I cook much differently than both my grandmas and my mother.  Mainly, I cook less casseroles and ‘comfort food’.  We eat more fish and less fish sticks. Basically the difference between cooking in the 60s, 70s and 80s and cooking today.

But, there are definitely go-to recipes from that box.

I’ve belonged to a playgroup/coffee group for ten years.  We take turns hosting on Tuesday mornings.  I ALWAYS make banana bread.  My mom’s, and I assume Grandma’s, recipe. I don’t need to use the recipe card anymore – the recipe is memorized.   But I get it out every time anyway.

It’s a good thing I don’t need it – because this is what it looks like.Image

We cook for others to feed them – mind, body and soul.

This recipe reminds me every time – I’m loved.

 
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Posted by on May 16, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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