cook pot stories

As you know, I love cooking. A blindingly obvious statement, since this is a cooking blog, but it's worth reminding myself of this sometimes. Cooking is therapy, it's meditative, it's a chance to experiment, and it's a way I communicate my affection and esteem. I'm sure you cook for many of the same reasons. In the 2+ years since Kevin died, I've not been cooking much. When I do cook it's usually something simple, not the elaborate meals I made before he got sick. You can analyze this in many ways; his cancer took away his joy in food; it reminds me of what I've lost; I'm just too damned tired most days to deal with it; and so on. Certainly this is a part of how I'm experiencing grief. Analysis aside, I'm aware that I miss it, but I don't yet know how cooking fits into the after life. I've come to think of my life since Kevin's death, especially as more time passes, as living in the Twilight Zone, as the after life. I have a r...

So, it snowed last night in Kansas City. In May. It was actually quite beautiful, the new green leaves shaking off the rapidly accumulating snow. I thought the trees looked like teenagers, offended that they were cold but not quite willing to do anything about it. I know. these late snowfalls are harmful to the new growth, but really, I'm sure you can imagine what I mean. My response to unexpected cold weather is predictable. I make soup. I'd already been planning to make french onion soup last night, the snow just made it all the more appropriate. I love french onion soup, it's my go-to choice in many restaurants. I'd never made it before and decided this would be a good time, since soon it will be too warm for the long cooking process and, besides, I had some great beef stock in the freezer. I used the recipe in Julia Child's classic, Mastering the Art of French Cooking . It's clear, simple and really, really good. Because this is a story blog as well ...

There is a popular fairy tale from the Brothers Grimm that tells of a soldier, on his way home from war, who stops in a village and asks the townspeople for a bite to eat. They all refuse to share anything with him though they clearly have plenty. He is a wily man, so in his desperation he finds an old pot, builds a fire in the middle of the town square and heats the pot filled only with water and a stone. One by one the townspeople who had refused him come by to see what he’s doing; he tells them he’s making stone soup, the most delicious soup in the world. None of them want to admit they’ve never heard of it so all agree that yes, stone soup is exquisite. For every visitor who agrees with him he then sighs and says that his stone soup would be better still if only he had some carrots. Or cabbage. Or onions. Or… And one by one each of the villagers says that they have carrots. Or cabbage. Or onions. Or… They run back to home to fetch their ingredients for the pot. By the end the whole...