granola – Mom it’s not my favorite.

When I was growing up, my mom would often hear those words come out of my mouth. Unless it was pasta or dessert, I wasn’t a fan. I’ve never really thought about how difficult it was for my mom to cook for me. She was so adventurous and yet I wouldn’t eat my supper if things were touching on my plate!

This past year as Theo and I discuss having children of our own, I often think about how I’ll feed them. And then I chuckle wondering if my children will use my worn out mantra of “it’s not my favorite!”

I grew up always in the kitchen. Our family ended up there together, almost every night. Doing our homework, discussing our days, laughing, dancing, sometimes fighting, but always cooking. Looking back, I never thought that I’d be interested in cooking. Now it’s like therapy for me. I love spending hours pouring over cookbooks, deciding what I’m going to make for dinner.

Theo and I are getting ready to say our “I do’s” and to step into our “grown up” lives together. Almost every night we sit in the kitchen and discuss our days, our wedding and our future. My kitchen will always be the most important room in our home.