food for thought

When I get home from work, I'm usually tired and I'm sometimes energized, but you can guarantee that I'm always, always, always hungry. The only thing on my mind after work is the ever-growing menu inside my brain.

Sometimes I opt for a snack. Maybe I'll grab some pretzels and hummus and call it a day. Sometimes I raid the refrigerator feeling like I haven't eaten in weeks and I'll end up with a piece of cheese in my mouth and leftover Chinese containers in my hand. Healthy, I know.

And sometimes, like yesterday, I plan out dinner right away and I spend some me-time in the kitchen. Food therapy, if you will.

Picking out ingredients, looking up recipes, organizing everything, it can be soothing for me. You might be thinking: "this sounds like unnecessary mess" or "that's even more work after getting home from work" or "there's a reason take-out was invented." Believe me, I feel you. Some days I barely have the energy to dial for take-out I'm so exhausted after work. Other days, this cooking thing just feels natural. When that happens, I don't fight it. 

My family is Italian and Polish. To put it kindly, they don't mess around when it comes to the kitchen. For me, I never really knew how much I genuinely enjoyed cooking until I started living on my own. 

In my house growing up, we always ate home-cooked meals and my family rarely went a meal without eating together. We would adjust plans, make sacrifices, eat obnoxiously early or eat ridiculously late just to avoid missing someone at the table. There were times when this "rule" drove me insane. INSANE. I'm sorry, but sometimes I'm hungry, and you aren't home, and I just WANT TO EAT!

This just about drove me crazy until I grew out of my obnoxious teenage years and started cooking for my family and helping my mom in the kitchen more often. When I started cooking, right on schedule, my world turned upside-down. I knew why this was my mother's rule.

I got it. 

Cooking for people takes time, effort, and if I'm not mistaken, there's love running through that olive oil, you guys. When you cook for someone, you want to see them enjoy it, and you want to enjoy it together.

And last night, when everything was ready to be served, as I poured spoonfuls of pasta onto plates, I happily mirrored my mother and grandmother. 

Just some food for thought.