Victories Come in All Shapes and Sizes

Tonight my daughter did not care for the homemade chicken noodle soup that I so lovingly prepared tonight. I told her that I had used up all my food-making energy on the soup and didn't have any left. If she wanted something else, she would have to find it herself. She went to the pantry and pulled out the peanut butter and the bread and made her own peanut butter sandwich AND she put the jar of peanut butter and the bread BACK in the pantry. Ahhhh. I feel the winds of change moving in our family. Now I just need to not look in her room tonight and ruin this moment.

Despite my daughter's critique, I have to marvel at how good a few simple ingredients placed in a pot to simmer can turn out to be. Some shredded chicken with some chopped onion, celery and carrots, coupled with what was left of a box of penne becomes a feast when brought to a boil in some chicken stock and water. Even if Maddie didn't like the soup, she helped make it. I've heard it predicted that cooking will become a lost art in the next 20 years. I'm doing my part to keep it alive. Not that Martha Steward or the Barefoot Contessa have anything to fear from me. Tomorrow is guitar lesson night, which means takeout for dinner.