food in the blogosphere

My good friends Megan and Beth are writing in their blogs about food. Lovely essays about what they are making and how they are avoiding restaurants or all things fried.

Which makes me think of my love / hate relationship with food.

As anyone who knows me for any length of time, I like to cook. Actually, more accurately, I like to cook for people. I like to make Thanksgiving feasts for all my friends and family, making sure that there are protein dishes for vegans, and something for the one who eats nothing green, and respecting all allergies.

I like to make vats of delicious soup and deliver it to those whose bodies or souls need nourishing.

And there are foods that I love- chocolate and coffee, raspberries, fresh baked cinnamon rolls, potatoes with sour cream--

Some of those loves also contribute to the more troubled side of my relationship with food, as I am -still- unhappy with my weight.

However, what some might not know is that I also dislike making food. I dislike making food that is fuel: breakfast, lunch, dinner. I dislike making food that is taken for granted.

I dislike making food when it is tedious, another chore, nothing special.

I am thinking of making a great vat of potato leek soup: partly because I have potatoes and leeks that really ought to be put into soup, and partly because I have a friend coming home from the hospital.

But, at the moment, I have so many chores that even making food to nourish body and soul of those I love feels like another chore.

comfort food

Earlier I wrote about the death of my neighbor D and the funeral and her surviving husband G and ... about my cooking and bringing over food.

Apparently, when I don't know what to do or say, I cook. Sometimes I bake. Sometimes I make casseroles.

Mostly I make soup.

Soup is super. It really, literally, does make you "feel better".

It even makes me feel better to make it.

Because of disease, disappointments and deaths, over the past several months I estimate that I have made hundreds of gallons of soup.

I have made old favorites like matzoh ball soup and chicken soup and potato leek soup.

I have made new discoveries like summer squash soup and sweet potato and chickpea soup.

Today, though, as I plan on making up some more summer squash soup and sweet potato chick pea soup, I am discouraged.

What has all this soup accomplished? Is the world a better place? Or is it just more dirty dishes and veggies spared from the compost pile?

I feel like soup is not enough. Not by a long shot.

Today, the sun is shining (at last) but my spirit is cloudy still -- even rainy..

Maybe I should *have* some soup.