Cooking is love

I love to cook, but I don't do it often enough.  Not seriously, at least.  It feels like too much trouble to bang around my pots and pans and get really involved in it if it's just for me.  When there's someone to cook for, though, I leap into action.  For me, cooking's not only fun, but one of the best ways I can show someone I care.  Cooking is an act of love and friendship, it's me saying "Here, I made this for you.  I gave all my attention to this task so that you might enjoy it, because I care about you."

I've cooked for friends, family, and lovers, but the one person I love cooking for most is my son.  He's a couple of months shy of his third birthday, and he loves spending time in the kitchen with Daddy, helping him cook.  His enthusiasm is so contagious, and he insists on being put up on the counter to watch what's going on.  He helps sometimes where he can, stirring a pot (with careful supervision!) or pouring ingredients together.  I've gotten him stated on spices recently; cinnamon sugar and curry powder are hits, Tabasco isn't too popular.  He loves minced garlic straight from the spoon, and he's adept at stealing pinches of salt from the bowl.

Caleb's pretty much fearless, and the fact that he's so willing to try new foods makes me eager to keep experimenting in the kitchen.  Sure, I'll occasionally take the easy way out and drop a few chicken nuggets on his plate, or take him out for pizza, but more often, I'm there at the stove, tossing ingredients around while he asks me what I'm doing.  The other night I made a makeshift Pad Thai for him; first time he'd eaten it, first time I'd made it.  It turned out great!  Caleb helped grate the ginger, and he put the shrimp in the pan.  Later, he helped make chocolate pudding for dessert (his choice!)

In the past, he's helped me dredge fish for frying, and he's made hand-rolled meatballs. He's seasoned the hamburgers and requested tomatoes in his grilled cheese.  He knows that we have to wait for the butter to bubble before starting the scrambled eggs.  Despite his distaste for Tabasco, he does alright with heat.  I underestimate the boy sometimes when I give him something 'kid friendly,' when all he wants is my grown-up spiced food.

Spending time in the kitchen is a fantastic bonding experience for us; he puts so much attention into watching what I'm doing, and I focus my attention on him, explaining everything and watching his reactions.  We laugh and we learn, we watch heat transform raw ingredients into finished food, and we create memories to last a lifetime.  When dinner is ready, we sit, talk about dinosaurs and Elmo, and practice our manners.  The act of pouring my heart into dinner, of creating 'art' to nourish my son, is only one way I show the boundless love I have for him, but it's a special way, one that's uniquely ours, and one I look forward to at every possible opportunity.

Truly, cooking is love.