Eyes focused, hands steady
Intentionally reaching
For each ingredient
Knowing the careful
Choice of seasoning
Expresses feelings
Difficult to put into words-
No one is allowed
In the kitchen until
“It’s ready! Come fix your plate!”
Tired, satisfied, he sits-
Watching, listening, waiting
To see if the flavor
Conveys the richness of love
With which it was prepared
A sweet aroma calls
But no one is allowed
In the kitchen
Until it’s time-
Mind focused
Hands steady
Intentionally reaching
For each ingredient
Knowing the use
Of certain seasonings
Expresses feelings
Difficult to put into words-
Dinner’s ready! Come fix your plate!
Tired, satisfied, he sits
Watching, listening
Waiting to see if the flavor
Conveys the richness
Of the love with which
The meal was prepared-
Ah! Sweet silence
Do you have someone in your life who loves to cook? Not just for the sake of cooking, but as a sign of love for those receiving. I’m beginning to understand, as a recipient, the meaning behind the words-Everyone out! 😉❤️
I walked past
My future self
This morning
At least
She could have been-
Faded jeans
And sandals
Unassuming
Floral patterned
Cotton top with
Spaghetti straps
White hair
Pulled back
In a relaxed, but
Fashionable style
Wire-rimmed glasses-
Well, I would probably
Choose more
Colorful
Frames
They are so much fun-
As I continued
To walk into
The day ahead
I couldn’t help but smile-
I wonder if she saw me?
Such a simple idea
Cooking dinner
Admittedly, not
Something I do often
I would rather
Bake cookies
But this thought
On this day
Brought a smile
Along with
A complete
Shopping list-
Meal and dessert!
Before you offer
Any congratulations
Just know it was
A simple meal
Tasty, healthy
But not complex
Still, I energetically
Prepared, carefully
Timing each chop
And measure
Proud of myself
Upon completion
Happy to announce
Dinner’s ready!
And share this simple joy-
My job was to stir
Sounds simple
A wooden spoon
Round and round
But I remember
Heat rising from
The slow-to-boil
Sweetness
My dad was always
Nearby, of course
In case little hands
Became tired
It only took
Helping one time
For the tasty
Result to be
Permanently
Etched in my soul-
How is it that
Precious details
Are so easily
Forgotten-
Eating the remaining
Warm chocolaty filling
Out of tiny glass bowls
Once my dad filled
His homemade pie crusts-
May my memory
Of a yesterday
Erase any complaints
From today
Say, hey, good lookin’
Whatcha got cookin’?
How’s about cookin’ somethin’ up with me?
Hey, sweet baby
Don’t you think maybe
We could find us a brand-new recipe?
-Hank Williams-
Yes, I know this song has little if anything to do with food. While recently thinking about food/cooking, however, my thoughts turned to people. And then to this song. Maybe not logical, but that’s my musician brain for you.
What is it about this act of cooking which draws us closer to each other? As I considered this question, my memories were clear. My friend Donna McDonald and her peanut butter pie. My friend Cindy Wright and her frozen strawberry dessert. The Seifert family and their homemade pizza.
The list could go on and on. Specific people, specific foods, and specific occasions. All of these foods were delicious, but what I remember most is the people and the reasons behind their cooking-family dinners, baby showers, hospital stays. Being on the receiving end of these gifts always made me feel loved.
I’ve also been on the opposite end of this circumstance. Cooking a family birthday dinner or baking cookies for a friend. Knowing that others are enjoying my creation always makes me happy.
This week I experienced both sides of this culinary phenomenon. Monday, I baked my famous chocolate chip cookies. Student musicians in our all-school musical were the recipients at our Tuesday rehearsal. They were surprised and grateful. And they ate all the cookies. 😉
I chose Tuesday for this treat because it was our first “late” day. This almost four-hour rehearsal followed a full day of teaching elementary music. Even with some extra caffeine and a cookie, the long day left me exhausted.
Dragging myself into the house, I immediately smelled something yummy. “Are you hungry?” My husband had made a tasty meal. He fixed me a plate. I sat down to eat and unwind.
No, this wasn’t a birthday dinner or special event. It was just a regular old Tuesday night. A late work night for me. A night he knew I needed a good meal. A meal that made me feel loved.
All of these situations are connected by one element, and it isn’t food. It is time. Time is precious and cooking takes time. When someone is willing to give their own time in this way, they’re showing how much they care.
If you find yourself on the receiving end there is only one thing to say. “What’s cooking?” Followed by a big, huge, “Thank you!”
Piano Girl 