It hasn’t escaped my notice that so many of my posts seem to feature food.
In my defence, I have never had so much time to spend in the kitchen as I have had over the last week or so.
Aside from the evening meal, there is no requirement for me to be cooking up a storm, and I have 101 other things that are calling out to me. I have knitting and sewing projects, online learning, courses I have subscribed to, genealogy research, gardening, sorting photos, so many delicious books waiting to be read – the list goes on and on.
So why do I keep finding myself tending the stove and oven?
I thought about this for a while today, and came to the following conclusions.
I cook as an expression of love. There is only my husband and me in my bubble at the moment, but who better to spend time on delivering something delicious and from the heart, than the most important person in my life? To nourish those that you love – there is no greater pleasure.
I cook for reasons of frugality. Today I made a scrumptious (if I do say so myself) apple and cinnamon cake, which we enjoyed with a big dollop of Greek yoghurt for afternoon tea. The reason that I made said cake was as a consequence of the huge and lonely apple I found on my apple tree. It wasn’t pretty to look at, it was too big to eat as a snack, so the obvious solution was to cook it into a cake. Waste not, want not.
I cook as an expression of creativity. The alchemy of bringing ingredients together and particularly when I am not adhering closely to a recipe, using whatever ingredients I have at hand, is such a satisfying exercise in creativity. You sometimes never quite know what dish you will end up with, but the combination of skill and intuition employed when it results in a tasty outcome gives me such a buzz.
I cook as a meditation. To knead a loaf, to peel an apple, to stir a pot, to finely chop vegetables – all can be exercises in mindfulness. When I am in the zone, and have the time to fully immerse myself, there really is nothing more relaxing than cooking. I cook to maintain a personal connection with my past – nothing takes me back to my childhood and learning at my mother’s side as effortlessly as creaming a bowl of butter and sugar.
I cook because this is the greatest of all homely expressions. The smell of a roast wafting through the house, the belly hug that is apple crumble and cream, the spicy symbolism of hot cross buns and the excited laughter of children when presented with a big bowl of warm, buttery popcorn.
What possibly could be more hygge?
Quietly Quaintrelle 