A couple of nights ago I came home from work and proceeded to make stuffed peppers for dinner. In the middle of chopping the onion, I had to close all of our windows because the neighbor across the way was going to town with his power tools. He has recently started to refinish furniture as a side business. The way our house is situated, noise seems to magnify before it accosts our windows. We constantly put up with airplane noise as we are under the flight path, fourteen barking dogs within 50 feet on either side of us, young people partying right under our bedroom window, the guy across the way cleaning his truck every weekend with a high pitched power washer and the gardeners for the property next door using a muffler-less blower. The furniture refinishing shop sent me over the top.
As I was cursing and yelling and slamming the windows shut, I added the cooked rice to the vegetable stir-fry, checked on the peppers to see if they had steamed enough and poured sauce in the bottom of the glass baking dish so the peppers wouldn’t stick. I called the police to find out the noise laws in between cubing the tofu and grating the cheddar cheese.
It occurred to me that I could be poisoning the food with my anger. I certainly wasn’t putting any love into this meal. Slamming the cupboard doors and dumping the cut vegetables into the frying pan is not a nurturing way of cooking. Shouldn’t preparing a meal for someone have love as an ingredient? I spiced the stuffed peppers with anger and frustration. The book/movie Like Water for Chocolate came to mind. I worried that my husband and daughter would get stomachaches after they ate the meal peppered with anger.
As much as I love a good home-cooked meal, I rarely enjoy making it. Cooking seems almost as futile as sidewalk chalk drawings.
I feel like I am not a good mom because I have not cooked well, often or creatively for my family. Nor have I taught Ben or Mikayla how to cook. It is one area I feel I have failed.
Mikayla was trying to do her homework at the kitchen table when I was burning up about the noise. She got very angry with me for getting so upset. That of course added fuel to my fire. But as usual, we both calmed down quickly and actually had a nice talk during dinner. And no one got a stomachache.
6 comments:
Roz,
I imagine that scientifically speaking, repressed anger affects the food more than expressed anger. The expressive anger activates the flavor molecules and brings out the richness of it all. This is apart from the miraculous effect on digestive enzymes. Mary
oh mommy that was a really nice little essay. i liked how you incorporated you everything.
Oh, and by the way, i didnt get extremely angry with you i just told you to calm down, in a rather loud voice. Haha
love you!
the bestest daughter in the WORLD!!! aka Mikayla
Roz dear, you know I didn't teach Jaz to cook and she's a great cook and loves to cook. She sews too! You've given your children the confidence and resources to learn whatever they choose. That's the best gift. Love you. B
Roz dear, you know I didn't teach Jaz to cook and she's a great cook and loves to cook. She sews too! You've given your children the confidence and resources to learn whatever they choose. That's the best gift. Love you. B
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