the joy of life

I have always loved eating. my parents still sometimes brag about my favorite food as a kid (artichokes). my childhood friend cried once because she thought I was eating weeds in our yard (they were chives). I have vivid memories of pressing christmas molds into sugar cookie dough, chopping zucchini and onions for a summer supper, eating cereal with my grandparents in their florida apartment.

as I got older, this extended into an interest in agriculture, local food, soil, and eventually, led to my own kitchen, where I experimented with vegan pot pie, blueberry muffins, thai curries.

when I got married, I had a consistent audience, and so I wanted to impress: greek mac and cheese, roasted whole chickens, pizza (from scratch!). it was a new, enjoyable world.

my dad always told me it would get old, that you have to put dinner on the table every night, and I didn’t want to believe him, but he was a little bit right. this still makes me sad, though, because cooking is the work I love to do: a practical but artful endeavor.

thus, an inspiration list: for lazy afternoons, unanticipated hunger, a gathered table, the joy of life.

heidi’s golden potstickers.

hot fudge sauce.

roasted peppers, white beans, pesto.

classic miso soup.

chicken meatballs.

herbed, golden rice.

the perfect apple pie.

lemon curd.

stuffed cabbage with spicy sausage.

xo.

cleveland summer

the air was thick with summer but the sun had already relented. I sat on the swing set, pumping my legs back and forth, protected by the old brick house and wooden fence hugging our yard. my dad, home from work, burst through the back door, smile on his face, tousled hair, muscle tank replacing his daytime tie and button down. pushing my legs, I went up, up, into a space of joy and security.