Feed the soul

"If, of thy mortal goods, thou art bereft,
And from thy slender store two loaves
alone to thee are left,
Sell one & from the dole,
Buy Hyacinths to feed the soul."

~Muslihuddin Sadi,
13th Century Persian Poet

At 11:45 pm, the house is heavy with the scent of pumpkin bread. On the stove top, two loaves patiently await for the allotted time of ten minutes to pass so they can be flipped out to cool; I patiently await so that I can then put my weary self to bed. Mind you, I am no Julia Child, whipping up something as complex as beef bourguignon or other scrumptious, fancy dishes. After all, I am from Swedish/English descent and my roots are in the Midwest, a place where jello is somehow equated with salad, a vegetable tray consists of celery and carrots, tuna casserole with broken potato chips on the top, congealed by Campbell's cream of mushroom soup, is esteemed an entree,  hummus (what's hummus?) and lentil soup are considered exotic. And couscous? Who even knows what it is. No, my tastes are much simpler than Mrs. Child's and thus, my three top meals to serve guests are usually restricted to the three following items: meat lasagna, pot roast, or the old standby, potato soup. All three are good meals, I would even dare to assert great tasting, but as my father would say, "nothing to write home about." And while I enjoy cooking, I possess a deeper love for baking; a love which stems not only because selfishly, I like my father, have a sweet tooth and thus anticipate savoring the sweetness of my labor, but also because there is something truly fulfilling for me at this stage in my life to initiate and complete a task and then look at it and say, "It is good." In the chaos of my days with dirty floors, finger smudged windows, chipped paint, mismatched socks (is there anything more annoying?), and Legos constantly jabbing me in the foot, baking yummy treats kindles a light within me which invades and hopefully drives out some of the darker, uglier stuff often corroding my heart. For me, the act of baking, the partaking of the food, and the sharing of the gift with others, is sacramental, and an art which truly nourishes my soul. So be reckless, get out your Betty Crocker or antiquated church cook books and bake a sweet treat. Share it with a friend, a neighbor, a stranger. And make sure you save some for yourself too! Peace and goodness to you.