I miss having someone to cook for. I’ve been cooking more lately (vs getting take-out/drive-thru), and I’ve made some darn good dishes. Butternut squash soup, a chicken-sausage gnocchi dish, a veggie-filled egg casserole for breakfasts this week, some really simple but tasty salads, seitan…
Sara and I loved cooking for each other and enjoying both new dishes and dishes one of us already loved & wanted to share with the other. Our tastes were quite compatible. I remember dishes like coconut-mango sticky rice, her way of cooking scrambled eggs that made hers far superior to mine, chickpea curry, spam musubi, savory waffles, biscuits and gravy (somehow I could make gravy better than her! She was shocked..), eggplant parmesan, lentil masala, apple cobbler, loco moco, homemade pizza, quinoa tabbouleh, lots of spaghetti, homemade seitan… the list could go on and on.
There’s something about sharing a dish that we’re excited about with a loved one that’s hard to put into words, but it connects to something deep inside one’s soul. Food was one way we shared our love with each other. I know that I still have opportunities to share food with others (well, moreso once Covid is under control), but I miss doing so with Sara. The pride she would have when serving up a tasty dish, or the joy she would have when I cooked something up for us – I just miss it, so much.