Bliss

I have discovered several things this weekend:

• Wearing an apron makes me a more careful cook
• Listening to jazz music (Louis Armstrong, George Gershwin, etc.) makes me a more pleasant cook
• Both happening at the same time is bliss.

This afternoon Edgar and I decided not to go out to eat after church like we normally do. Instead we decided to save money and cook at home. I like making Sausage and Pepper Penne because it is quick, foolproof, and doesn’t make a huge mess. All it requires is a pot, a skillet, a cutting board, a knife, and a spoon. Colander and pasta spoon optional.

It makes for a blissful cooking experience.

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Yesterday I had a similar experience. I spent the majority of the day in the kitchen cooking and/or baking one thing after the other. There was a moment where I was wearing my antique store apron (it smells like my Mamaw’s house), swaying in place to Louis Armstrong and snapping organic green beans into a pot of onions and bacon. Who am I? Where am I? WHEN am I?

Such moments make great meals.

Pot roast, mashed potatoes, Southern-style green beans, and a homemade wheat roll (which I ate approximately 32,352 of last night. The smell and taste of fresh baked yeast breads is intoxicating. Fermentation is a beautiful thing).

I must be channeling my grandmother. She was a minister’s wife in North Carolina. And Missouri. I don’t remember much about her since she died when I was very young, but I remember going to her house in Missouri and eating homemade ice cream. Dad says she used to make green beans like this–with onions and bacon.

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One of the things I first learned to appreciate about West Texas weather when moving here in 2006 was the fact that I could see rain comin’ from miles away. And when I say “rain comin’” I mean, “We’re-dry-right-now-but-I-can-see-distinctly-that-it’s-rainin’-over-yonder-in-Floydada.”

How common is this? Because I don’t recall ever seeing this while living in the Metroplex.