Therapy

I so enjoy cooking dinner for my family. There is something about it that refreshes my soul. Maybe it's because I'm a fat kid, maybe it's because I'm Italian, I'm not quite sure of the reason. But when I get into that kitchen, throw a towel over my shoulder and start gathering the ingredients I just feel at peace. Having a daughter who shares in this experience is even more fun. Gianna loves to help me cook. She drags a chair over, straps on an apron and gets her hands dirty. I'm thrilled to be able to pass the love of cooking on to her.

I find few things more satisfying than filling the house with the smells of a delicious meal. It reminds me of my childhood and our family gatherings, no matter the size. Whether is was just the three of us on a Wednesday evening or Christmas, when we set places for nearly twenty, walking through the house and smelling the amazing things wafting from the kitchen has always made me smile.

However, the experience of cooking is not complete until we all sit down together around the big table, say our prayer and dig in to the evenings delights. It pleases me so to watch people appreciate what I have made. I like it even better when they eat a lot. It is very fulfilling to cook for someone who goes back for seconds. My old friend Michael can always be trusted to fill this need for me. He never fails me. The conversations and memories that are made around my dinner table are some of the most cherished times in my life. I hope that the people on the other side of the table feel the same way.

On that note, I'm off to drain some pasta.