I have discovered the joy of cooking. This past New Year’s I made a resolution to cook more, or to actually cook, I should say.

I have always enjoyed leafing through cookbooks and watching the Food Network. So I decided it was high time to become a participant in this cooking thing instead of just an observer. I mean, they look so happy and make it look so easy. How hard could it be?

Actually, it’s harder than I expected (timing everything so it’s done at the same time still eludes me) but not so hard that I’m in a crying heap under the table. I have to say that I have not accidentally substituted sugar for salt (although I have put in a touch too much ginger or cumin in at times) nor have I forgot something in the oven (although I have forgotten something on the stove and when I returned it was a hot mess. literally! talking on the phone and doing laundry will do that).

What I have learned is that picking out recipes and planning a menu for the week does make me happy. Going to the farmers market and picking out vegetables and maybe some flowers makes for a good start to the day.

Chopping up said veggies for a spaghetti sauce and listening to it simmer while making a tablescape feels homey. Gathering around the table for spaghetti and crusty bread feels relaxing. Seeing everyone dig in and there’s hardly any talk because they are enjoying the food feels satisfying.

Knowing that I actively participated in bringing this meal together and that it was good makes me feel proud, makes me feel accomplished and above all makes me feel grown-up!

(Now when’s The Mighty Boosh on?)

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