Kitchen Therapy

Everyone must have, I'm sure, those dishes that they always return to when they feel down and in need of some comfort.  Pork Chops top Hubby's list every time, Chris loves a good casserole and James always asks for a pasta bake.   My comfort food is steak and kidney pudding; a hug encased in suet pastry, though I would never turn down a plate of kedgeree in a miserable situation. For me, however it's not so much the food that's the comfort in a lot of cases, but the mere act of cooking.

I knew I'd had a lousy day yesterday, because all I could think about on the way home was gertting back and getting a risotto started.  Not because I wanted, particularly, to eat a risotto, but because I knew that half an hour of (relatively) uninterrupted, therapeutic stirring was just what I needed.

Today has been, again, a real tonic for me in that department, as we have friends arriing this evening to stay for the weekend.  Instead of using the sainted bread machine today, I've made a loaf of bread by hand, which rates very highly on my 'Kitchen 999' scale.  I've made a batch of my favourite tiny toasts for quick pre-dinner nibbles over the weekend and beyond, the childrens' supper for this evening, ready to reheat later and a pudding for tomorrow night (more of which another time...).  And so, fortified and comforted by a morming of satisfying kitchen pottering, I may proceed serenely (by my standards at least!) with the rest of the day.

Cath xx