One of my Winter reads has been a book titled “Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant.” A collection of essays about the crazy things we all cook when alone. The following excerpt struck me as the entire point of cooking in one succinct idea. The act of making a meal for someone is, very simply, “a sincere expression of affection.”

The sum of my food posts are intended to be edited and rolled into what will become my contribution to a collective family cookbook. From my grandmother, aunts, mother, sisters, cousins and many friends, among whom I’ve found even more family… I’ve experienced the same affection with all these people and hope to pass it on along with a few stories of my own.

The following passage though made it clear to me why I enjoy wearing an apron as much as time allows.


“I consider cooking to be an act of love. I do enjoy the craft of cooking  of course, otherwise I would not have done so much of it, but that is a very small part of the pleasure it brings me. What I love is to cook for someone. To put a freshly made meal on the table, even if it is something very plain and simple, as long as it tastes good and is not a ready-to-heat something bought at the store, is a sincere expression of affection, it is an act of binding intimacy directed at whoever has a welcome place in your heart. And while other passions in your life may, at some point, begin to bank their fires, the shared happiness of good home made food can last as long as we do.”

“Eating Alone,” by Marcella Hazan from “Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant.”

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