Love In The Kitchen

This is a story about love found in chocolate. And strawberries. In the kitchen.

And creating a moment of life. Slowed down.

My daughter Katelyn is becoming a foodie. At least a dessert foodie. What she can do with chocolate and peanut butter should be a crime in eight states. At least.

For her birthday in November she asked for a dessert cookbook. She got two. Since we were all on pre-wedding diets at that time, it was poor planning, but we all enjoyed every rich, creamy, decadent mouthful.

Recently Katelyn spent days planning a personal shower for her sister. She poured over recipes and food websites.

She baked, dipped, melted, whipped, chopped and mixed for two days.

A peanut butter fudge brownie trifle. Chocolate-covered strawberries. Toasted Almond Parmesan Cheese Dip. (As amazing as it sounds.)

Katelyn and my mom frosting cupcakes.

And heart shaped cupcakes with marshmallow filling that were crumbly and IMPOSSIBLE to frost with the melted white chocolate and when I offered to help and showed Katelyn my first lopsided attempt, she raised her eyebrows and said, "THAT'S not helping me, Mom."

When everything was ready she laid it out on the kitchen table

and friends arrived. Good friends. And family.

My girls: Aleah, Rachel, Katelyn

We sat in a circle, each stepping away from the whirlwind life of a culture that demands we travel ten miles over the speed limit so we can get to stoplights sooner and we gobble down fast food while skipping lunch breaks and collapse exhausted in bed to do it all again.

But that night we feasted on Katelyn's love poured out on the beautifully decorated table, with Granny's china that hadn't seen the light of day for two years, or maybe three, and lit flower-shaped candles floating in globes of water, and talked and celebrated

Life. Slowed. Down.

And it was good. Very good. (And I'm talking about more than the food here.)