My mom, that is, she says it gets easier to cook regularly and keep things tidy. I don’t know, I hope so. I need this cooking. I need to feel as though I can accomplish something. I need to produce something that is appreciated by one other person on a fairly regular basis. I need to produce something in which I feel a certain amount of pride.
And to be honest, I need to be pro-active about dealing with this nagging, low grade depression. I need to keep it under control. No one likes being around a depressed person, no one even likes saying “sorry you’re feeling blue, buck up!”. Thing is, since I started this self regulated program of cooking more often and listening to my books and all that, I DO feel better. I am accomplishing something, I am producing something that I am fairly confident David appreciates, I feel proud of the meals I work on.
The thing about cooking is that there’s a rhythm. You cut and peel and bread and fry and bake and whisk and consult and measure. You plot two steps ahead, especially when you have a poorly laid out kitchen like I do. You taste and experiment and season and hope. There’s a dance you do with onions, eggplants, cutting boards, ovens and sinks. When you finish this dance you put the result on a plate and you cha-cha over to your special person and you hope they dance too.
Tonight I danced with eggplant parmesan, it is currently resting in the oven, getting ready for the finally. On the side I will make sauteed spinach with garlic.
Goat pictures on the way! I promise. Also, apologies, I’ve not been keepign up with Ephemeral Photo. Both are n the agenda, both will be dealth with. Huzzah.
Okay, someboday buy me the Alien Quadrilogy just because. Tell me it’s because you think I’m charming!