Cooking is therapy. There's no way around it for me. Start chopping and spicing and concocting a dish and you find your way home. I'm standing in the kitchen. Staring into the fridge. What do I have. What do I want. What lines up. It's a game I like to play. Make it come together with what's in front of you. If you think too hard you'll miss the point. People (who obviously don't know me) like to talk and contemplate the extent of my mental state. The post-holiday musings post was too real. But what's life without the truth? You can't have the highs without the lows. You know this. How can anyone dare to ask, undirectly, what's in someones mind. If you want to know you'll have to go to the source. That post wasn't meant to be scary or dark. (You should have seen the first few drafts I tried to write - that was scary and dark). It was meant to be real. Truth. And it's a public forum - so open to debate and crticism - but it's also exactly that - open, honest musings. Do we take everything too literal? Maybe so. But don't ever guess and think to know what's really in someones mind.
So, I'm back to cooking. And baking. In stride. I like to make the people around me as happy as I can. And gifting cookies and dinners always seems to please. It's from the heart. It has a little bit of me in it. And the act of doing it works out the kinks in my mind. As we all have an overactive mind that goes down dark corridors and pathways trying to make sense of what's happening around us. I chant into my food. I immerse myself in flavor combinations. I become one with what's in front of me. I truly loose track of time in the most beautiful way. Everyone should be so lucky to find something like this in their lives. And I give the gift of food to my son and my friends around me hoping that they can taste this in every bite and know that all is right in the world.