That is what I’m hoping someone says to me tonight after dinner. Sir Walter stopped by to share his centuries-old recipe for Cassoulet with me today, and all I can say is, this recipe is from the day of the full-time, live-in cook.
(Not to mention, the full-time, live-in scullery maid. Wish I had me one about now.)
So, yes, I made cassoulet and it has my entire house smelling like YUM, and I even baked a loaf of Will’s Sourdough Bread to go alongside, cuz, you know, I hadn’t dirtied enough dishes yet. *smiles*
I got to thinking, though, as I prepared the six layers for this cassoulet, about the connections between love and food. My own grandmother, Dorothy Rose, used to cook for days and days before we’d arrive for a visit. I never asked why, but my sister did once. Dorothy told her that she did all the cooking ahead because that way she wouldn’t have to be stuck in the kitchen when we came to visit.
I’m sure that was why. But it got me to thinking of another thing. That whole “cooking for days and days” thing? Why’d she do that in the first place? And as I braised onions and boiled beans and defrosted beef bone broth and dried bread for breadcrumbs, I realized that she did it for one simple reason. Because she loved us. (You are welcome to place bets as to the dedication of the Official Ripple Trilogy Cookbook.)
I’m hoping most of you have someone in your life who cooks as an act of love for you. Please feel free to give ’em some recognition in the comments section!