I attended a particularly unpleasant meeting tonight and, having forgone supper in order to attend, I left the meeting both angry and with a growling stomach. What does one eat when overcome with the need to rant and to pace back and forth while shaking your fists? My husband, bless his heart, knew just the thing. He drove me home and cooked me a late supper of blood rare steak and baked potatoes.
Was it the blood rare steak that calmed me or just the act of sitting down and focusing on my meal? I don’t rightly know. Perhaps it was both.
I do know that I often find myself in the kitchen when I’m upset. The process of cooking—the measuring and assembling—requires my attention and gives me something to focus on. Then, too, there is the satisfaction of making something you know to be good and of having the opportunity to share that something with others.
I’m still steamed (I probably will be for a while) but I’m headed to the kitchen now for a little cooking therapy.