My motivation for cooking has changed somewhat over the last eight weeks. Every meal I prepare serves as a reminder that Mikey is no longer at our dinner table. I still have two young children to feed, though, so the kitchen has not collected dust in the days and weeks since his death. In fact the contrary has happened, and I often find solace in chopping and sautéing.
Cooking is a constant, a variable that hasn’t changed. I still can chop an onion the same way I did before August 7, albeit the tears are for a different reason now. I’ve also found myself relying on the standards: the meals I can prepare with my eyes closed. Roasting a chicken is easy and I get the double reward of having leftovers to make soup, pot pie or even chicken croquettes. The same goes for steak, and even beans — leftover homemade pintos get new life as refried beans for tacos.