I have a love / hate relationship with Tupperware. I love it, because Tupperware means delicious leftovers, but I hate it, because who likes to wash dishes anyways.
Cooking for myself this semester has been an adventure. How much effort I put in depends on how much time I have, although lately I’ve noticed myself putting off homework so I can stand around and cook. There’s something soothing about it; intentionally taking time out of my day to do something good for myself. I don’t do that often.
I’m in a nutrition class this semester, too, which has made me hyper-aware of what I eat and drink. Add to it the fact that I’m shopping for and buying my own groceries… I’ve been kind of neurotic about food this past month. It’s given me time though to realize what I like, want, and need, and I think that’s good for me.
Right now I have casserole in the oven and it smells delicious. This is one of the few recipes that I’ve actually followed; normally I like to try to make stuff up, and it usually doesn’t work all that well. My nutrition book says that when people cook their own food, they tend to eat less, for a variety of reasons. I don’t think that’s true in my case. I’m all like “Shoot this is delicious and I made it myself… lets celebrate with seconds.”
I appreciate what I eat, now, from pb&j’s to peanut chicken stir-fry. I appreciate the effort, and the fact that I can eat what I like. “…It returns me to myself to shop for food, to wander through the produce section, to was hand chop vegetables, to heat garlic and broth, to taste the sharpness of cheddar on whole grain bread. ” (Exodus- Cold Tangerines) Shauna Niequist is a brilliant writer and someday I’d like to put my thoughts into words the way she does. She talks a lot about food and cooking and how important an act it is to cook for someone, and to cook good food for yourself.
It nourishes you, body and soul. One of my favorite points she makes is this: “There’s still a big story, disguised as just regular life, and the big story is about love and death and God, and about bread and wine and olives, about forgiveness and hunger and freedom, about all the things we dream about, and all the things we handle and hold.” The things we make and eat and touch and throw and hold are all telling a story, and some days we forget to see the big picture for all the minutiae in our lives, and other days we can’t focus in on the little, beautiful gifts we receive every day.
I’m going home to celebrate my brother’s birthday this weekend. For a few hours, everything will be right with the world; all the ice cream and the steak, and the hugs and songs. It’s all telling a story, a big story, but I’m going to dwell on the little things. Like guacamole and bananas on the sideboard and a warm cup of tea and my mom booing the Patriots and the fire in the fireplace and the cat on the windowsill.