I like to cook because it makes me feel good, knowing that I’ve created something tasty. I like knowing that I can feed myself and my family and my friends. I like knowing that people enjoy what I make them.
I used to cook a lot, back when I lived with my roommate in our colorful, single-lady apartment. Cooking was down time after a long week, where I could just spend a few hours catching up on Netflix and trying new recipes. It was a few hours on a Sunday where I prepared myself and my food for another week to come.
Then I met Doug.
Doug loves to cook. Loves. The first time I ever went to a party at his apartment (a few weeks before we started officially dating), he made an enormous shepard’s pie – and his own biscuits. The french toast pictured above was made for me the first time I stayed at his apartment. (I was awed by the effort and extra touch of confectioner’s sugar). He gets Bon Appetit in the mail and reads Saveur and makes galettes (not tarts, thank you very much) and basil pesto mayonnaise on the regular. He knows and owns the best steak knives, methods for browning and roasting and making your own barbeque rub (it’s called Memphis Dust, which to me sounds a lot like DEA might come a-knockin’ someday soon.)
For me, it’s a hobby that I learned out of necessity. For him, it’s a way to show love.
I love that Doug cooks for me. Since going back to school I love it even more. The food he makes is delicious and I can brag about him to other people, but I love that he loves and supports me by making meals for me when I’m too busy studying, or thinks to make leftovers so I can take them for lunch, or knows me well enough to know that I really need a snack.
H e’s Mr. Social Chair . I love people/our friends, but I never think “Hey, let’s throw a party!” like he does. To me, parties involve cleaning and cleaning up. To him, they’re about having fun, relaxing and enjoying each other’s company (and maybe showing off a his skills just a wee bit.)
Thursday of this week, he decided he wanted to have people over this weekend. The house was a disaster. I was PMS-ing. He assured me he would take care of everything.
And by Saturday evening, I was relaxed, having fun and enjoying people’s company.
And just like usual, he took care of everything (except the Key Lime Bars, which I made which were delicious).