Home Fires

About two-and-a-half years ago, just before I started this blog, I was cooking lunch twice a week for two guys at the office.  It was an accidental business: one of them wanted to eat healthier as his new year’s resolution.  I offered to teach him a few recipes; he said he’d pay me to make them.  Then a second guy wanted in.  I made them entirely vegetarian meals based on whatever came in my veggie box that week, and I never repeated a recipe for the whole three months I did it.  I also included a note that explained what was in each dish and why it was good for them. 

They absolutely loved it.  One of them would even sit on the edge of my desk and eat it, cooing in appreciation.  But I don’t think it had anything to do with my cooking.  This wasn’t haute cuisine.  There weren’t any expensive cuts of meat in it.  The reason for their enthusiasm, I think, was that someone had made something just for them.

Ay, there’s the rub.  The one thing a restaurant can’t offer is heart. 

A good friend of mine once told me that what feeds the body doesn’t always feed the soul.  She was talking about jobs versus hobbies, but I think it applies just as much to restaurants versus home cooking.

One of the most memorable meals I’ve recently had was without reservations, fancy linen or a third party hovering over the table.  I won't include the recipe, because it's not what was in the dish that matters.  It's that someone made it for me.  And that, of course, is the sweetest ingredient of all.

Comments

[Hadley Beeman]

This is really touching! I completely agree-- if someone's willing to cook for me (and I know I'm a bit of a pain), I'm theirs forever. It's such a caring thing to do for another person.