I just looked back on my cookbook note from last year. In
it, I mused about the fact that “at this time next year” my first-born would be
in college and would be “just visiting” with us for the holidays.
Indeed, that has come to pass. Ben went off to school and
has brought back with him passionate arguments about every possible aspect of
what’s wrong with our economy, our government, our international conduct, our
penal system, our drug laws, you name it.
He’s also brought back one whopping appetite. Apparently,
there’s a lot wrong with the food at school, too. I must admit, I get a little
trill of excitement from Ben’s gastronomic dissatisfaction. Not only because it
makes me feel like he truly did appreciate my cooking during his 18 years under
our roof. But because this is a hunger I can easily fix.
I know that when I feed Ben his favorite foods, I’m not just
filling his gullet. Those familiar tastes and smells are filling his heart with
the comfort and love of home. Likewise, the Crohn’s-friendly foods I make for Noah
make him feel secure and cared for. I know that every meal I prepare for my husband
Paul is, in essence, a love letter to him. I know I can send my mother-in-law
Florence home with plastic containers of goodies and that she’ll feel and taste
our love for her long after we drop her off in the City. And I know that when
my mom joins us for dinner during the week and on many Sundays, I am helping
fill, if even in a small way, the enormous void left by my dad when he passed a
year ago November. Man...nothing marks change and loss more than sitting down
to one-less place setting, I think.
So mom and I make dinner together pretty often these days. I
spend a decent amount of time in the kitchen with my mom-in-law Florence, too. When
we get to chopping and peeling, stirring and basting, conversation is easy and
our goal for the moment is simple and happy. The ground between us warms up and
we get to share some pretty special time together.
It’s so interesting to me how—through all that’s happened
over the years, the good and the bad---I’m constantly drawn back to the
kitchen. I’ve been happy in here. I’ve been frustrated and exhausted. I’ve felt
wistful, as I’ve laid a table for three instead of four, with the knowledge
that that number will continue to shrink as time marches on.
At this very moment, though, with my whole family here, work
on the back burner, and my fridge brimming with foodstuffs, my heart is
busting. I’m devouring the feast of this wondrous, if crazily imperfect, life.
It’s been a good vacation, indeed.
I’ll take this opportunity to send good wishes to everyone
out there who’s reading this note—with a special shout out to my dear
sister-in-law and sister-in-life Lonnie, who is wrestling a hefty challenge at
this time. With her peerless positivity and the love-drenched support of her
husband Ken and the rest of us, there’s no question that she’ll emerge from
this fight the kick-ass victor. And “at this time next year” we’ll all be
feasting on life together with gusto.
I hope that 2014 was a good year for you. If it wasn’t, I
wish you better things in 2015. And, if you’re getting this cookbook, I’ll just
say, I feel lucky to know you!
Want your copy? Just shoot me an email at pegSrosen@gmail.com and I'll get right back to you with an attachment and printing instructions.
P.S. The additions to this year’s cookbook are:
New England Express Cocktail
Present Perfect Pecans
Killer Shakshuka
Turn-the-Clock-Back Roasted Tomatoes
Caulimash
The Way to Cook Filet Mignon
Looks-Like-You-Fussed Pork Tenderloin with Apples
Hot Blondies
No-Grain Brownies
Good-as-Grain, No-Grain Banana Bread
Bake These Apples
Wondrous, Grain-Free Cashew Butter Waffles
Wondrous, Grain-Free Cashew Butter Waffles
Best to You....
Peg
Why else does a moth fly from the night than to a bold, attractive candle Light? Don't let His extravagant brilliance be extinguished. You're creative, yes? Then, fly-away with U.S to the antidote...
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