As a little girl, one of my favorite ways to help my mom in the kitchen was to lick off the beaters after they were done performing their magic in the banana bread batter. That batter was - and still is - the equivalent of edible gold. I could eat the entire bowl of the gooey indulgence, but the actual bread is something to be desired as well... so polishing off the batter wasn't an option. My boys enjoy licking the beaters as well - whether they are coated with creamy bread batter, chocolate butter cream frosting, or mashed potatoes. The kitchen is the heart of the home - because the food that pours out of it is a direct reflection of the hearts of the ones who cook in it. A little decorative jar in my kitchen bears a quote that sums this thought up nicely - A good cook knows that it's not what is on the table that matters, it's what is in the chairs. I couldn't agree more.
Though if I'm being honest, I really do enjoy my time in the kitchen prepping and cooking what ends up on that table. I first learned of my love for cooking during the early months of my marriage. Eric and I had moved across the country - leaving friends and family behind - as we began our adventure as husband and wife. Our tiny little apartment became our base camp, since we spent more time exploring the Rocky Mountains and sleeping under the stars than we did in our own home. But the weekdays were long for me, as it took me a few months to find a job. At this point, I could count on my fingers the number of homemade meals I had made prior to my wedding day and during the first few weeks of marriage. As I spent day after day searching for job listings in the newspaper and sending out resumes, my boredom and frustration pushed me to open up some of the cookbooks we had received as wedding gifts. And I began to teach myself how to cook.
The very first "from scratch" meal I cooked in our tiny apartment was penne with roasted peppers and sweet vermouth, a recipe straight out of a Williams Sonoma cookbook titled Pasta. I had fun working with fresh basil for the first time, and recall feeling sophisticated as I crumbled the feta cheese over the aromatic pasta dish. Eric was certainly impressed when he sat down for dinner that night. I gobbled up the husband's praise (pun intended) and pressed on through other cookbooks that awakened my taste buds to new and refreshing flavors. Eric and I eventually discovered that we loved cooking new things together, and cooking quickly became one of our favorite ways to spend quality time together.
Creating elegant and technical meals became our love language towards our family and friends. Eric would grill the filet and whip up a delicious and savory Bearnaise sauce, while I focused on the stuffed acorn squashes and chocolate mousse that just HAD to be presented in a martini glass. I even started reading about wine pairing, because, well, the meal wasn't complete until it had the perfect glass of wine to enhance its flavors. It was all about the meal... or was it? I loved being challenged in the kitchen - trying new techniques and feeling accomplished when I made something that had previously seemed daunting and unrealistic. But the real motivating force behind my love for spending time in the kitchen was who would be gathered around the table when it came time to eat.
There is something sacred about sitting around a table with a warm, home cooked meal centered between laughter and conversation. It allows life to slow down for a moment, giving us a chance to connect with one another. I look forward to the dinner hour every day. It really is consistently the only time during the day where my husband and children and I are all together long enough to have a "quality" conversation. I hear about Jack's day at school, and what everyone in his class had for lunch. I learn about the treasures Gabe found in the yard while playing with a friend (usually BB pellets and insects that appear in cups around the house). I get to hear about Eric's various ongoing remodeling jobs which are always accompanied with new revelations about how he wants to build our own house someday. Then its my turn to give an update on my Friday Night Lights reruns - which I have been watching while I nurse Sammy, since no one really wants to hear about how I managed to wash and fold two loads of laundry and empty a sink of dirty dishes into the dishwasher. When I think back on all the people Eric and I have invited into our home to gather around our table, it makes me ache for those moments instantly. For all who gather around our table are considered family, and the precious moments shared over countless meals are simply priceless.
This past summer I stumbled across a book that fanned my flame for cooking. Bread & Wine, written by Shauna Niequist, challenged me to do something in the kitchen that I had NEVER done before... cook with friends. In the 11 years I have been married, I had never invited a group of women into my home to cook and eat a meal together. A couple of months ago, when I asked three dear friends to join me on a Bread & Wine journey, we all realized that we were in the same boat. Not one of us had ever devoted an evening to cooking with friends - no kids, no husbands, no house full of chaos and trying to time the completion of every casserole perfectly (let me interject that those dinner gatherings are fun too) - just a group of women doing something that they do often, with each other.
We. Had. A. Blast.
Our Bread & Wine books lay open on the counters as we each prepped our own part of the meal, sparking conversations about what foods we were experimenting with for the first time. We zested limes. We crumbled feta. We laughed over the heap of corn kernels on my recently scrubbed hardwood floors. We tasted everything before it went on the table. We clinked my grandmother's antique wine glasses in a sparkling juice toast to amazing friendship and awesome food. And we laughed, cried and listened to each other's hearts as we enjoyed our meal.
At the end of the night, we agreed that our gathering needed to remain something beyond just a book study. The meal that night did more than fill our bellies, it nourished our souls. It is very true that some of our fondest memories are when we are gathered around the table. How important it is too, to nourish our friendships with the utmost care and attention. What better way to acknowledge those we hold dearest, than to invite them to gather around our tables.
