A Home Cooked Meal

All of the psycho babble might say that food is not love. The food itself may not be but the act of preparing it can be an act of love. I have the good fortune of knowing several very good cooks and more than once, their meals have soothed my soul. Yes, it was the company as well, but there are times when someone takes care to plan a meal that for those who appreciate what that entails, it is love. When A and I got back from London last week, H had homemade beef stew cooking and the smell was heaven. He even added my new favorite vegetable, parsnips. That’s love.