The Stories of a Warm Stove

Lit Grater


I just realized that I like to cook. I know, kind of a head scratcher based on how often I write about food. It's just that I grew up among women who defined themselves by how much they hated to cook (and still do). My Mom hated it but was pretty good. My grandmother was a wonderful cook but also claimed to hate it. Perhaps it was having to do that and everything else raising 3 children in the South whilst married to reclusive minister- just guessing really. My aunt hates it as well. For the longest time I thought this was also my story, but it isn't.

There is a comfort of home (hearth really, the modern kind embodied in a gas stove) that I'm aware of suddenly after all these years:  cooking is a way of relaxing for me. It isn't always because I'm essentially a mood driven creature. In the case of dessert (frequently covered here) it is a source of tremendous creative expression- it's like cooking and dreaming up art.

There is also something wonderfully illicit in the fact that (with my made dinner warming on the stove awaiting my family) I am typing this at dinnertime. Ooooo, stand back! I'm a tradition breaker!

Does cooking warm your heart and hearth? Here are some of my favorite food posts from the past that you might enjoy (after doing this so long, it all gets buried until I can find time to implement sexier tech that does a better job of cataloging it for you):


Photo:  Part of a "lit kitchen" exhibit I happened upon at the Tate Modern in London. Couldn't find any labels for it while I was there. Hey, if lighting up your culinary tools is the fetish you call art then....oh never mind.
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