Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Cooking and Love

Cooking is a once child's play and adult joy.
And cooking done with care is an act of love.
Craig Claiborne

Mealtime brings back many happy memories. When I was growing up, some of my happiest moments were at the table. A glass of milk was always spilt - never failed. It brought laughter because it always happened. "Never cry over spilt milk" was a quote I heard almost everyday.

The table was a place where we shared our lives, told our stories, listened, and learned. Sometimes we laughed with joy. Other times we listened while someone cried. It was a place where we were required to gather, and we did so, without questioning, but anticipating what we will hear or learn or share.

My dad was the best story teller - stories about his childhood, growing up during the depression. Even though he had a tough childhood, he remembers the good times. They raised chickens, had many pets, and helped others in need. My grandma must have been a great cook - he passed down many of her recipes that we still make today.

My siblings' children are grown, and times together are precious. Someday I want to have family meals once a month in a dining room large enough to hold the ones I love. Everyone that can come, will come, and we will share our stories and lives. We will listen and learn. Someday I will have a table surrounded by family, laughing and crying, joking and listening, with children of every age. It is a dreams I intend to make a reality. The invitation will be open. No one will be expected, but everyone will be asked to attend.

And I will remember our family table - the place I felt loved.


I found this video site about depression cooking. This lady is adorable, and I hope you enjoy her as much as I do.

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