Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food. ~Hippocrates

Posts tagged ‘grown sons’

Vacation Eats

So sorry for the long hiatus. I was studying furiously for my national registration exam to receive my credential as a Dietetic Technician, Registered. Then I left for a 2 week work/study vacation, returning to work catchup. So, here I am. Back in the blogging saddle.

Every year for the past 20 years, we have gone to a lakeside cabin in Maine. It’s a house really, with a fully equipped kitchen. It is interesting how my relationship with that kitchen has changed over the years.

In the early years, saddled with an infant and a toddler, vacations meant packing up half the house and moving all the work to a different location. I did not find those vacations at all relaxing. We had a 10 hour drive (before DVD players). I stressed about the kids and the proximity to the lake, constantly doing head checks. I still had to shop, cook and feed the family. It was no vacation for me in the food department. And I didn’t even enjoy cooking back then!

As the years went by and the kids grew older, we took them out more often to restaurants, giving me more of a break. Then they were old enough to make their own breakfasts and sandwiches, relieving me of those meals. Then, as they became young men and brought friends, they were in the kitchen cooking for us. I stood back with a big grin of pride, watching 3-5 handsome men chattering and cooking away!

I really didn’t earn the right to take any credit, since my interest in cooking developed long after I could claim any influence. My older son took a liking to cooking at age 10 when a French woman stayed with us for a month, cooking up a storm. He stood by her side watching and assisting, as she cooked and baked the most beautiful and healthful meals. My younger son has worked in food service throughout high school and college, and has begun to prepare meals for himself too.

So now that cooking is no longer the chore it once was, I find it to be a creative endeavor that I enjoy. But here is the sad part: the boys aren’t around to benefit from the fruits of my labor. Now, isn’t that too bad?

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