Thanksgiving

I spent Thanksgiving at my Mother-in-law's place.  I was never allowed to cook with her, and I thought that this would be a great opportunity to do so.  Cooking in someone else's kitchen means getting to know them on a very personal level.  I only allow very few to actually cook with me.  I can truthfully only think of one person who I allow to cook with me.  I cook with others, but having someone cook with you means that you trust them to cook as you would cook. The food should look like one person cooked the meal.  It should be seamless.  I got to cook in her kitchen and I loved it.  I got to see where she kept things and figure out her system, which is not far from how I would set up the kitchen.  I got to use her things, and handle what she handled with such love and reverence.  Looking at all the lovely things she had to host made me sad that she did not use them all.  She had everything you could imagine to cook with.  She even had a heart shaped melon baller.  She wanted fine china so badly and she never used her set that she finally got.  (My husband would not allow me to use her very fine set, and I did not push it since it is not even 40 days.)  I went out to her garden, since I like to have natural things on the Thanksgiving table, and found many of her roses in bloom.  I cute a few, and placed them on the table. I felt that finally we had made one meal together, and that pleased me and made me miss her all the more.