Cooking

I've already been busy in the kitchen this morning; I was busy yesterday too. For dinner last night I made Baked Pork Chops in Mushroom Sauce; yes, real mushroom sauce with real mushrooms that I sauteed first. I also made a massive layer salad with lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, strawberries, mushroom slices and cheese on top. Alongside I made up some Cinnamon Rice in my rice cooker; it's easy, it's just regular rice with a cinnamon stick tossed in.

Today I am making Chicken Korma in the slow cooker. Later this afternoon I will make Chole, a kind of chickpea curry, and some saffron rice. There's plenty of salad left from yesterday, so I think dinner will be in good shape. None of these dishes is terribly difficult to make, unless you are in a wheelchair and can\t stand up to reach the high shelves in the kitchen. That's where planning and a good grabbing tool come in handy.

I like to cook. It is, for me, a process of creation, to be able to take a batch of disparate ingredients and, along with appropriate spices and cooking methods, make something that people enjoy. The ability to build something from bits and pieces that you can serve to others is a basis of real accomplishment for me. I don't cook for myself; in fact if left to my own devices, alone at home, I rarely cook. It is for others that I enjoy this exercise in food preparation.

It's long been a social grace, during times of joy and times of sorrow, to offer food. When a child is born, you bring food so the mother doesn't have to cook. When a family member dies, you bring food so others can focus on their grief instead of their kitchen demands. When you to a party, you bring food. When you host a ceremony, you provide food. It is the universal way of expressing support and care for others around you.

When the Occupational Therapist was here yesterday, along with a student learning the profession, I offered them an iced coffee. As I reached into the freezer for ice, she asked me if Home Care had been doing meal preparation for me. There are a lot of meals in my freezer, all in sealed plastic containers. I said "No, that's all my own cooking". I said that with pride, pleased that others would assume I cannot, and yet I still can; pleased that I can prove to the professionals that there are still plenty of things I can do for myself.

There will come a day when I can no longer function in my kitchen. Slowly my freezer will empty of my own creations, their places taken by meals made by others for me. When that day comes, I will miss cooking. For now I plan on doing lots of it. Cooking makes me happy.