Even when I feel overextended, even when tired, and especially after tryingly stressful days, I still cook. No matter what, I can walk into my kitchen at the end of a day, and I am rejuvenated. Cooking is my therapy. The quiet moments, the creativity, the pursuit of feeding myself and those I love with fresh, healthful meals gives me a sense of purpose I find extraordinarily rewarding. And it provides me with something I can control when there are far too many things I can't.
I almost always take leftovers for lunch at work. Here are some recent lunches.
On a recent rainy and chilly day, I decided I wanted to make a pot of beans. Upon studying my stash of dried beans, these large white lima beans beckoned me. I cooked them with a couple of pork chops and served them with cheese toast.
Pritchard Parker came home with a cold. That just would not do because we were going, in just a few days time, to welcome new babies. Can't be sick for that, so I made a pot of healing chicken noodle soup. Here is my lunch at my desk the following day.
A couple of days that week, I ate salads in jars. Here is a Greek one, made with red onion, orzo, pepperoncini, cucumbers, black-eyed peas, Kalamata olives, feta cheese, grape tomatoes, and spinach.
Thursday night, I made a tofu and vegetable stir-fry, using things I had on hand--broccoli, cauliflower, celery, red bell pepper, mushrooms, zucchini, and tofu of course. Thus, lunch on Friday.
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