I've never thought of myself as much of a romantic. But when I was transcribing interviews this week, I kept getting coming back to this one quote from Mel (who was kind enough to let me interview her for one of my upcoming stories):
"Food is a huge tenant of how I express love, how I move socially. And when I care about someone, I want to cook for them and nourish them," she told me. "I really do believe in food that is grown with love. People who really care about our land and how they treat the environment and the growth of that food permeates through the food, to the dish that I make, to the person who eats is."
This? This is something of love.
Slowly, surely, I'm starting to remember, that yes, I too believe in something of love. And every morning, as I stand barefoot in the kitchen, measuring out the coffee grounds and eagerly waiting for the kettle to perk, I remember that I too, know what it means to be cared for and to care for someone.
As long as there's coffee and whiskey and pie in my life, there will be love.
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