Saturday, 11 December 2010


I love cooking. Most of the time. Sometimes I wish someone would just serve up a plate in front of me. But I do love cooking.
When I cook I think, I daydream. It's a bit like having a bath, the way I let my mind wander I mean. Because I don't really have to think about it. It just sort of happens.
And there's nothing better than cooking with my son. Tonight he has chosen the herbs to go into our meal. I have no idea what our dinner will taste like because he had complete control of the herbs (smells good though!). Well I suppose I did tell him to be sparing with the celery salt!
I learned to cook through watching my parents. My dad is the son of a baker and all his family apparently cooked well. Dad taught me how to make soups, roast dinners, macaroni cheese, lasagne, bolognese, shepherd's pie, bread... anything as long as it was savoury. Dad taught me how to season without a recipe, how to taste and add more and that you can't take it out once it's gone in.
My mum showed me how to make cakes, biscuits and desserts. I love cooking these things. They're a treat. It's not something I cook every day so it's a welcome change. Every Christmas when I was little my dad's dad would make the Christmas cake and Mum would ice it.
So now I'm grown up I really want to share that passion with my son. I'm sad my husband isn't that fussed about cooking. It's his choice but it's a great enthusiasm to have. My son seems to be very excited about cooking but he's only young. I hope I can foster that interest he shares and that he doesn't lose it as he grows up.
And the dinner? It was perfect!

Equality in the home
Relaxing Times
A lovely weekend
The Missing Child

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