Food is my love language. I mean seriously, if you're at mine and I've made crunchy caramel peanut popcorn, you'll know I like having you around. If I've made chocolate custard brioche, there's a good chance you're one of my actual children.*
But visiting what's left of my own parental family this month has brought it home to me: that's not where this came from. They didn't cook except as a utilitarian thing, and it was never exactly something to be cherished.
So where did this impulse come from then? I taught myself to cook as a student and it was (ahem) a bit of a bumpy road... I really need to give this some thought!
*and pushing your luck.
#lovelanguages