Writing Prompt: Comfort Feeding

I’ve just realised the cooker is broken. The oven is fine, but the hob is out of action. Although I now need to shell out for a new cooker, I’m not that fussed. Instead of cursing the limited warranty, I got creative. The fridge is generally where condiments go to congregate and eventually die, for once, I had some left overs and some random ingredients standing on the ledge of their sell-by date. I cleared the counter, gathered a bin liner and got clearing. Anything with a better than average chance of killing me went into the bin. Everything else formed a neat row of ingredients for me to play with. I had an oven and a microwave to work with and a load of ceramic and oven-proof dishes. With my cutting board, kitchen knife and stock cubes in hand, I got to work. The end result was four hours of culinary ingenuity and enough carrot and coriander soup to keep me fed and improve my eyesight.

Over time, there also appeared a pasta bake, grilled bacon, microwaved eggs and the makings of a oven baked frittata. There is something comforting and therapeutic about making enough food for the masses. When my fella asked me why I keep feeding him, on impulse I said, “It’s how I show affection. It’s how I was raised.” It just popped out, but it made me realise that there was some truth in it. Treat have always been a form of comfort in our house, my mother constantly chasing us with bowls of popcorn or store bought bags of chocolate chip cookies. After school was strawberry pop tarts of twinkles. Dinner was always a three part dish of meat and two veg. Mom gorged herself with Butter Pecan ice cream, her favourite to this day.

Maybe, despite my best effort to be my own person, I have finally become my mother. if so, there are worse things to be. She rang me today to say that the campbell’s chicken noodle soup and A-1 steak sauce I requested was in the post. Three to four days and I’ll be drowning a perfectly good sirloin in tangy sauce. In the meantime, I have a vat of soup to get through.

How do you feel about food? Do you enjoy cooking or is it purely functional? Write about a pleasurable experience involving food.

Bon appetite!

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