I enjoy cooking. When I’m in the kitchen, I feel the love from the food move through me, through my hands and into my heart. The love goes back from heart, into my hands and into the food. This love then finds its way into those who eat what I’ve labored to prepare.
Chopping onions, scallion or potatoes is soothing. Cooking jasmine rice in vegetable broth delightful. And seasoning a tender and sweet chicken flavored in a tangy orange sauce exhilarating. The many smells that float through the house draw visitors from their conversations. Each one inquiring with an I-hate-to-bother-you tone, “Is dinner ready? Everything smells so good.” I smile, satisfied that their senses are keen and my meal smells appetizing.
When all is done and ready to be served, it is with whip in hand that I am forced to ward off the savages that threaten to eat everything in a single sitting. But order prevails and the meal is enjoyed, with barely a drop left to serve sleep over folks lunch on the morrow.
Another successful meal. “What is the recipe?” I hear several times over. I answer, “I can tell you, but then, I’d have to kill you.” The laughter closes out yet another wonderful dinner that leaves friends remembering not only the food, but the love shared between us.
PDF 
Is it the vibration of the food or the vibration of the soul that has prepared this wonderful meal? Melding, merging soul food from the heart you remind me of my mother she would have loved you Pittershawn.
[Reply to this comment]