RachaelB.

Dear Diary,

Rachael here. It’s 2020, and well, yeah this year may go down as the craziest, weirdest, wildest year ever. I can’t not touch on the fact that we had a global pandemic sweep through with force, changing lives in different ways. And well, everyone dealt with COVID-19 a little differently…. I, like many others took to the kitchen… But let me tell you, I am no stranger here.

Let me explain….

I already had a special relationship with the kitchen…. a small love affair you could say. Cooking is, well… it’s comfort, it’s family, it’s those moments that bring you back. Cooking means bringing happiness to your loved ones,

Food is a love language. It’s my love language.

When I say I grew up in the kitchen, I really did. Most memories include sitting on the counter top as my mom would make everything from spaghetti, al dente, in a sweet marinara sauce, to empanadas; dough made from scratch, painted with olive oil, baked to shinny, golden brown perfection. A true Modern Masterpiece.

Not sure how your holiday’s work but Thanksgiving in my house always starts two days before actual Thanksgiving. Why you may ask? Well, because that’s when food prep starts(this is still a thing of course).

Christmas Cookies. The Gooch Girls don’t mess around. We pull out my Grandma Florence’s dainty, hand written recipe cards( we keep them in a special cabinet; you know… the kind of thing that if we catch someone with them, we may or may not have to kill them… ).You get the idea.

With each passing year, the recipe cards find themselves with a new battle scar… by that I mean, some sort of smudge, stain or sticky spot.

Endearing… maybe? Slightly gross…possibly. All I know is that, as I sit here writing this, I am filled with all the warm, cozy feelings that cooking brings…. Do you feel them too?

Although quarantine may have facilitated this “cooking kick,” I’ve always loved the kitchen. I’d like to think I’ve always been pretty fluent in what I like to call the Sixth Love language: Food.

To be continued.