I Cook Too Big

I  don't know how to cook small. Part of this is the way I was raised, there were four of us kids and two of those were teenage boys (granted, my brother Eric is picky as hell) but Mom had to make a lot of food, and even as everyone eventually moved out, she kept cooking too much food. By virtue of watching her, I learned that unless it was made in a soup pot or a really deep chicken fryer, it was too small.

We already know I've kind of gone into panic mode and am making huge batches of soup to put up in the freezer for my impending increased poverty. But in all honesty, this is the way I cook. Seriously. I can't conceptualize cooking for one. I just can't. Even when I try, it's still enough food for a day or two.

Or several months...

There is something undeniably comforting in my ability to cook good food in large quantities, though. It's not just soup, although honestly, I could eat soup forever. It's my favorite. Being able to make all this food means that, should one of my friends be in need and show up at my door, I can take care of them, comfort them and warm them if they're cold. Those who have come into my home and sat at my table know that if they leave hungry, it's their own fault. I've even pinched a person's collar bone and admonished them for being too thin and implored them to eat. But then again, we all know I have old-timey sensibilities. I use food and cooking as therapy, and I love to share it. Nothing makes me happier than to feed my friends. Lately, I have had no one to cook for but my freezer.

Wouldn't you want to cuddle up to this?

Hell, I even reward people who brave washing my month's worth of dishes with a meal. I mean, who would pass that up?