Bean Soup and Other Indoor Sports

I spent Sunday cooking up a big dinner for my book club. We had read “The 19th Wife” by David Ebershoff, which is about plural marriage among Mormons. The story goes back and forth between the origins of the Mormon faith and present day fringe culture. As host, I created the dinner menu using inspirations from the story, and so I chose a simple main dish using cast iron: black bean soup with skillet cornbread.  I embellished this main course with garnishes, salad and appetizers, a specialty cocktail, and freshly made melon granita for dessert.

I can casually mention my elaborate menu and if you are just stopping by here for the first time you might think this is not a big deal. Let me assure you: I cook like this very rarely. Even though the end result was a simple spread, I spent most of my day working on it.  While the act of such meal preparation is meditative and calming, it is surprisingly exhausting.

Because the process of cooking is filled with active verbs. In one day, I managed to do the following:

soak
measure
chop
dice
pour
heat
add
cook
stir
boil
reduce
simmer
remove
puree
garnish
combine
melt
spread
bake
strain
cover
freeze
scrape
divide
peel
slice
press
rinse
scrub

I probably have not prepared a meal with this much active thought and care since the last time I hosted book club, which was one year ago. As I described my planned menu to Stewart, his ears perked up and he seemed very interested, until he realized that the meal was not intended for our family.

“Oh,” he said.

“You thought it was for us?

“For a second, yeah.”

But for us, I planned microwaved hot dogs and leftovers of the mac and cheese and grilled pork from the night before. I barely ever create a well-planned dinner for us anymore. What’s the point? The children won’t eat it, won’t even taste it. Stewart himself will gobble it down, say “Thas was great!” and then forget all about it. But a group of women with complicated tastes and high standards will at least taste everything, then audibly praise my efforts and sometimes even take seconds.

It’s much more fulfilling.

But it’s also exhausting, time consuming, and expensive. When cooking for my family, which I do at least once a day, I don’t have entire days to devote to making a meal.  I have a weekly budget.  I have picky eaters who just want food in their bellies.  It is not without love that I microwave a chicken frank for my son, or open a package of pre-marinated pork loin for my husband.  It is with economy of effort, so that I have time and energy to spend simply being with them.

Eleven people attended book club last night.  I had just enough food for everyone who wanted it to have one helping of everything.  The black bean soup was a hit.  I had planned to bring home the leftovers for Stewart, but there were none.  Soon, I will make a new batch for the two of us to eat together.  There won’t be a specialty cocktail or a homemade dessert or a garnish, and I probably won’t wear a dress when I serve it.  We will eat the soup in our messy kitchen while the children make faces and refuse to try it.

But it will be just as delicious.