Supper has been a defining factor in our day since the birth of our first son. The thought behind it, the planning, the timing it all has to coordinate. And factor in the weather, the days activity and the energy level (of both the cook and the patron), and sometimes it is more thrown together than I would like to admit. But it turns out those meals made when I think I having nothing left in the cupboard, those times when I can’t possibly muster up the energy to make it to the grocery, those have turned out to be some of my favorites. Perhaps it is a sense of pride of the ingenuity and frugality of such a thing that make me brush my shoulders off, but mostly it ends up tasting really nice. Garlic, good olive oil and crusty stale bread can go a long way and in a lot of directions. Its fun to search around in the back of the fridge for the half a leek you forgot about (they seem to last forever!), the everlasting chunk of parmesan and the jar of dilly beans from god knows when (they get better with age I tell you). To experiment and see what happens is where the true joy of cooking lies for me. I am still not so far away from the woes of the first trimester where the smell of an onion, in a bag, in a cupboard, was enough to tie my stomach in knots, and I clearly appreciate the beauty of all the smells of the kitchen and take deep full breaths of them every chance I get. And now with the herb gardens, both old and new, growing full steam ahead I have a whole new slew of things to sip up the scent of and sprinkle generously on everything.
Recently, my sweet giant husband (whom is fearful of nothing except taking charge in the kitchen) and I (who fears most things such as getting lost, meteors and giant squid but jumps at the opportunity to use some fine ingredients) agreed he would take over Sunday Night Suppers. He is going to write down the ingredients he needs, I am going to swap them up with a smile on my face, then I will kick back my swollen feet, rub my buddha belly, and watch my babies run in the grass while with any luck he too falls in love with the sound of sizzling garlic over a hot cast iron pan.
But me? You’ll find me under this tree in a lounge chair (I intend on buying just for the occasion), sipping on a tall glass of soda water flavored with (gasp) SWEETENED cranberry juice. Soon enough I will adorn my relaxed self with a tiny baby and a nice cold beer, but that is still some time away….
but oh a girl can dream….
MamaRise 