I cooked today.
And when I say I cooked – I mean I actually cooked – a proper dish. (It was Cauliflower Cheese, but it involved multiple ingredients, whisking – a “Roux” no less – multiple stages of cooking, and an oven. For me this is major “Cooking”.)
So for many women (and especially women), this might not be anything to write (home, or anywhere else) about, but, for me, it is.
And the beautiful thing happened when my daughter actually ate it. And not just ate it, but enjoyed it – and then wanted more. And more.
Now, my daughter’s no food connoisseur – or not just yet – but she does know what she likes and what she doesn’t like. And so this was a very moving moment for me. (Moving may be overstating things.)
Because for generations, the women in my family have expressed their love for their children through their cooking. (Sometimes, I suspect, only through their cooking – but that’s another story.) Since I don’t cook, I didn’t think I’d be one of them.
But knowing my child enjoyed my food is really beautiful (not moving). And it’s as if a new piece of the puzzle that is Motherhood has been put in place.
New mum, old soul... Finding beauty, wisdom, spirituality, and opportunities for learning in the everyday (hopefully)...