March 8, 2011

By Jean

A meal prepared for family and friends is a metaphor for love.  From the menu planned with care, to the shopping for the freshest ingredients, I am thinking of those whose hunger will be sated, including mine, by a lovely, satisfying meal.  With each dice of an onion, each smash of a garlic clove, each chop of an herb, my hunger for scent is assuaged.  Every sprinkle of salt, every grind of pepper suggests to me the richness of what is to come.  The aroma-filled bubbles of steam that come from a simmering pot fills me with anticipation.  When the meal is served, I am gratified with the sounds of people savoring the food, enjoying an evening of conversation and laughter together.  As I clear the dishes, I notice that the plates are practically clean, the last remaining drops of sauce having been mopped up with chunks of bread.  I think to myself, “they loved it.” And I loved doing it for them.