A Reluctant Cook

I was a super picky eater.

It tormented my poor mother, especially because she really didn’t like to cook. She said, “I have better things to do with my time.” I guess a lot of people probably feel this way.

Not me.

Not anymore.

I am still picky, but now I can cook. Obviously I didn’t pick it up from Mom, but eventually I learned quite a few things.

By far, the thing I love the most about cooking is feeding the people I love: my family. It seriously feeds my soul.

I feed their tummies, and it feeds my soul.

It is a magical thing. When we cook, we create something that didn’t exist before our hands and minds brought it to life. Then the people we care for--that we would die for—consume it and it becomes part of them. I seriously have NOTHING more worthwhile or satisfying to do with my time than this! (If only I had someone to clean it all up…)

What is more memorable than a family meal? What do we do when we want to spend quality time with someone…a date, a playdate, a birthday, a wedding, an anniversary?

We EAT!

Sometimes ordering takeout or dining out will suffice—I do it, we all do--but nothing, NOTHING, can replace a home-cooked meal with love in every bite. In cooking for people, we give our time, our energy, and our love to them in way that is unmatched by any other act.

Memories that stay with us are made up of our experiences. The act of eating food that was made for us by someone who loves us dearly is a whole-hearted body and soul acceptance of that love.

This first became apparent to me when I met my dear husband’s Austrian grandmother. Sweetest lady I ever met. Nearly 90, could barely stand, but she made us schnitzels and a pepper salad that was to die for. While we sat and ate, she watched us intently. She didn’t even eat. She didn’t want to miss a thing.

Honestly, I was a bit uncomfortable. She spoke 6 or 7 languages, but none of them were English. So I just ate.

And she just watched, grinning ecstatically. I didn’t get it.

I do now.

I never sought out to become some great cook. It was a necessity to feed my husband and kids, but eventually I found that I really loved it. My husband and several people along the way taught me some things, and I ended up finding this wonderful expression of creativity and love in the act of cooking.

Now, I watch people eat my cooking,

just like Grandma.

It gives me a high. A deep satisfaction that does not compare to anything. Try it.

Give it your all, and then watch them eat.

It will nourish their bodies and it will nourish your soul.

Do it. I can help.

I can help.