It’s 12:03am and I have just finished preparing cinnamon rolls for breakfast. No. I don’t usually bake at midnight. My husband is out of town and I don’t sleep much when he’s gone so I use my time productively. Or at least most of it.
As I was rolling out the dough I decided I would confess tonight. I don’t do that often. Don’t get me wrong, I am totally fine acknowldeging my weaknesses. But this is a toughie. As this is something for which I have become known…

Whew. That felt…weird. It is true. I don’t care to cook. Yet I do a lot of it and I do a lot of it well.

Now, I do enjoy the act of cooking/baking/saute-ing/ etc. I like fluttering about the kitchen in my apron. I like trying new recipes. I like using up spices and extracts as qiuckly as I buy them. I like all that crap you hear the contestants on “The Next Food Network Star”  say as they are trying to impress Bobby Flay. I’d say about anything to impress Bobby Flay. Who can blame me? He’s so cute and has great hair, an actually nice New York accent and he can cook – man style. See. There I go again. I digressed. You people!

Where was I? Oh yeah. I do like the ACT of cooking. But I DO NOT LIKE THE MESS. I do not like it Sam, I am. I do not like the mess of Green Eggs and Ham. And because I choose to do it all from scratch – no Sandra Lee Semi-homemade here – there’s a mess most of the time.

While it’s taken time, I’ve become quite good at multi-tasking bowls, utensils, washing as I go along, preparing in advance to maintain the messes,yadda yadda yadda, feeding a posse it takes a lot of those things and regrettably, cleaning up takes longer than the cooking. Add in the fact that most days I cook three times a day and I’ve spent most of my days in the kitchen.

What does make it OK to for me to cook/bake/saute/etc is that the people for whom I am preparing the food truly enjoy the food. My family and their friends love the taste of real food. They love the thought of the time someone took to make it. They love the use of real fresh foods that taste like real fresh foods. They love the way the colors look on all of our mismatched Fiestaware. And dare I suggest that at least one of them enjoys my fluttering about in the kitchen in my apron. And no, I am not trying to impress Bobby Flay. I am trying to nuture my family and friends. Nourishing them along the way, too, is just a bonus.

All the sentimental stuff doesn’t really make it OK for me to cook, it makes me LOVE to cook. When I’ve spent an hour in the kitchen making the foods and an hour and a half cleaning up the aftermath, my heart is still filled with the comfort and knowledge that I’ve fed their hearts and their stomachs. And I am grateful for the opportunity to do so. Thank you. ❤