My Love Language

There is no doubt that my love language is feeding people. From the moment I know I am going to have guests, I start to plan the menu, scribble out my grocery list, then head shopping.

People who know me, know that this is what makes me happiest. I am in the kitchen for however long, dish towel slung over my shoulder, prepping, preparing and serving.

I can usually make my guests whatever they desire to drink. The other night, my son was getting over a bad cold, asked if I would make him some tea. I said, well how about a hot toddy? That will knock that mess right out of you! He said yes, I made him a hot toddy and watched him sip with delight.

Its funny, when I meet new people, I always ask when they can come over so I can cook for them. Many look at me kind of strange. I just say, you bring the wine, and I will make you a meal that you wont forget. Before you know it, we have a dinner date.

I think my favorite though, is when my sons walk in my house with the all so familiar aroma wafting in the air. They smile and just tell me how much it brings them back to childhood, and they are so glad I still cook like this.

People have asked me why I don’t open a restaurant. After I look at them like they have lost their mind, I tell them it’s because I want to continue to enjoy cooking, and I want to only cook for those I know. People who own restaurants get no time off, have to deal with so many things that would put me in a straight jacket. Having cooked all weekend, then a healthy meal last night, I am ready to dine out for a few nights now. That is not an option when one owns a restaurant. Knowing how hard I work just to feed a small group, makes me certainly appreciate those who do it all day, every day, so we can go out and enjoy a good meal, be served, and let someone else clean up.

How do I love thee? Come over, sit down, and let me feed you.