in the kitchen

In baking I find my soul. In cooking, too. In both. I find my soul in both.

I find me. When I feel lost in life. In the “to do’s” and the pressures. In the what’s and when’s and if’s.

I find certainty in the kitchen. The familiar. I feel at home instantly.

Truthfully, the only household goods I wish I could take with me are found in the kitchen. My Kitchen Aid mixer for one. Maybe I could stick it in my carry-on?

Last night we had Mexican Casserole and a Coke (mine w/ a lemon wedge). So simple, but so good. The casserole was just a bean and rice mixture layered with corn tortillas and topped with cheese (baked at 375F for 30 minutes). Then I cut up the usual toppings and had some chips, salsa and sour cream for the side. Bonus: it made enough for two casseroles.

And just like that I found myself. Found my soul. I can breathe…think…feel. It probably sounds crazy, but it’s the truth. Being in the kitchen is my therapy. My escape valve. My “normal.”

Hmmm…maybe I can fit my Kitchen Aid in my carry-on after all…


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