Grief is like an unwanted house guest who steals that which you cannot see. Your laughter, your joy, your appetite and cooking skills, and your peace of mind. It is only after a very long while you can look back and laugh at yourself about the burned toast.
Thank you for sharing this story. It certainly resonates with me.
In the midst of this week's angst, you wrote a name which brings comfort to my mind and heart; Laurie Colwin. Thank you. I am now going to re-read her books and her articles which I saved from Gourmet magazine when she died. Her words will remind me that good people, good cooking and kindness will still exist even when the world feels scary.
I am so happy you regained your laughter, joy and narrative voice. Timely, in that we will all be tested in the coming months, perhaps with laughter as the only salve for a troubled nation turned upside down.
Yes I totally understand this, 23 deaths in 3 years was enough to completely put humour on mute. I was silenced, fearful, angry, uncertain. I had a break down and all of me was sunk below a surface without description. That was 7 years ago and now I’m finding my way back to smiling and laughing… the lines etched into my brow, a stark reminder. Onwards …and thank you for this beautiful piece of writing. My cooking tastes better now❤️
This really helped me today. I trashed a lot of flour and what was to be two lovely loaves of bread yesterday with a rookie mistake. Making bread was supposed to help feel better, but it and I failed. Thank you for reminding me that there is promise in the future.
Grief is like an unwanted house guest who steals that which you cannot see. Your laughter, your joy, your appetite and cooking skills, and your peace of mind. It is only after a very long while you can look back and laugh at yourself about the burned toast.
Thank you for sharing this story. It certainly resonates with me.
Thank you. I needed a reminder to learn to laugh again. I've been so angry since Tuesday. Rage-cleaning and snapping at everyone.
You’re one of the funniest people I know. And I love laughing with you.
Love you, Laura. Still trying to laugh this week......
In the midst of this week's angst, you wrote a name which brings comfort to my mind and heart; Laurie Colwin. Thank you. I am now going to re-read her books and her articles which I saved from Gourmet magazine when she died. Her words will remind me that good people, good cooking and kindness will still exist even when the world feels scary.
She is the first one I turn to.
I am so happy you regained your laughter, joy and narrative voice. Timely, in that we will all be tested in the coming months, perhaps with laughter as the only salve for a troubled nation turned upside down.
Nobody seems to be laughing, yet.
Yes I totally understand this, 23 deaths in 3 years was enough to completely put humour on mute. I was silenced, fearful, angry, uncertain. I had a break down and all of me was sunk below a surface without description. That was 7 years ago and now I’m finding my way back to smiling and laughing… the lines etched into my brow, a stark reminder. Onwards …and thank you for this beautiful piece of writing. My cooking tastes better now❤️
Thank you dear Elissa. I needed a reminder on the value of laughter in my life.
Have begun breathing again
This really helped me today. I trashed a lot of flour and what was to be two lovely loaves of bread yesterday with a rookie mistake. Making bread was supposed to help feel better, but it and I failed. Thank you for reminding me that there is promise in the future.
Perhaps today dukkah would suggest suffering rather than a condiment?
Wrong dukkah.
think that might be "Duḥkha"? Perhaps the condiment might suggest how beloved foods travel across cultures, bring us together -- like laughter.