Member-only story
What Does a Seventyish Woman Who Has Been Married Fiftyish Years to a Man Who Adores Her Cooking Do When She’s Sick to Death of Cooking?
When running away is not an option
I suppose I could don a disguise and run off to the nearest wine-bar and sip cocktails while my husband tried to find me to make dinner. But then I’d likely overdo it and end up being driven home by a well-meaning stranger who would need to be fed, too. Such is the life of a cook.
This story is written from the viewpoint of a person who is responsible for making meals in the home. When I was growing up it was usually a woman. Now, of course, sometimes the husband is the primary cook, or the partner. Sometimes couples start out dividing up the chores in different ways. In my life, I was the one. So, please take the gender references calmly, knowing that the problem may exist, regardless of your gender, when you overdose on cooking as I have.
I have loved to cook all of my life and there are reasons for it. For many years it was the best way for me to be creative. I love to eat. I had a family to feed. My husband had a job and I didn’t, so I did the cooking, which I loved to do. I had a catering business, I had a home bakery. I love cookbooks, reading and writing them, I love giving cooking lessons, even better…
