Patience in the Process

Evan.  "Oh my goodness!  I'm so tired of grating zucchini!"
Me.  "You've only grated half of one."
Evan.  "I know!  It's taking so long!"
Me.  "Evan, the best food is a result of the best ingredients being handled in the best way.  It's a process.  And it's worth it."

This launched me into a long and passionate lecture, mostly to myself, about how our instant-gratification, microwave it now, swing through a drive-thru culture robs itself of enjoying excellent food because it's in a hurry.  We want 15 minute, pre-cooked, pre-chewed foods.  Maybe not pre-chewed, but surely there's a market for that too!

 "Evan, cooking is art.  I watch as you carefully pick the right colors when you paint or color.  You aren't in a hurry - you slow down to enjoy the next step.  Add the next color.  Decide how you want the painting to look when you are done.  In cooking you do the same thing.  Sometimes it's effort, but the flavor will always shine the brightest when you slow down, enjoy the process, and add the ingredients that are going to produce the flavors you want."

Why blog about this?

Because we all have to eat anyway.

Because we are sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Because our hearts break when we watch loved ones suffer or die prematurely simply because they didn't pay attention to the chemicals, fats, and preservatives they consumed in their convenience-oriented meals.

Because there are more of us who are joining the ranks of "process."  Time.  Planning.  Love in the language of food.  Standing over savory smells at the stove and sweet temptations in the mixer.  Bringing our spouses and children in to enjoy and participate in the process with us.  Even if it slows us down.  Even if it makes more messes.  Even if the results aren't the same.



Memories are made.

Heart-to-heart conversations are had over cookie sheets.

Lessons are learned.

Legacies are built.

We carefully pick fresh ingredients.  Local and organic when possible.  We shop sales and fresh markets.  And at the end of the day, when the last dish is rinsed, there's a deep satisfaction in knowing we labored for our families.  And our families are healthier for it.  And a tad spoiled.

We are fully aware of the time and energy we invest in our meals and won't settle for dining in front of a television set.  Unless it's family movie night with nachos and popcorn.  Or Sunday night football dished up with hot chili.  

We sit around the table whenever possible, knowing that time is our foe.   These evenings are rare.  Our kids are growing and our schedules are full.  So we enjoy the flavors of home and blessing of plenty while praying that our children enjoy  "process" in the kitchen with their own children someday.

Even the simplest of fresh foods become rich when we partake together.  Salad from home-grown produce.  Soup made with last night's chicken meat.  Homemade bread.

My encouragement to the non-cookers:  slow down.  Take time to enjoy the process and learn.  It doesn't come by magic or overnight.  It's art and it takes time to develop your own style.  Resources are endless and cookbooks are more user-friendly than ever.  Take the time to look and learn.  Read.  Research.  Keep it simple.  Then be brave.

Your taste buds will thank you.

Your children will be delighted.  Well, not always, but try anyway!

Satisfaction will come!

And Evan's zucchini?  He finished grating it and made a fantastic batch of bread based on the Crazy Good Banana Bread Recipe.  He simply squeezed the extra moisture from the zucchini before adding it to the batter then baked the bread a tad longer.  His chocolate-smeared smile came from his heart- a job well done.  

The payoff after the process.