Food, Glorious Food

My pedicure buddy and cousin by marriage is celebrating the 7th anniversary of her 29th birthday tonight.  She asked if I would mind bringing a plate of appetizers to help her out.  I don’t mind.  I love to cook. 

This morning I made the sheepish call to admit that I got on a bit of a roll last night and made not one plate of appetizers, but 5.  FIVE!!!  What kind of person does that? 

I had planned to take the easy way out and just make baked brie.  It looks hard, tastes delightful, and is super easy.  When I got to the market, I spotted the most beautiful French bread and decided then and there that it would hurt nothing if I made bruschetta, too.  Cutting the tomatoes for the bruschetta reminded me of all of the gorgeous vegetables I had in the fridge, vegetables which needed to be eaten this weekend.  That’s when I made up my mind to make a cool veggie pizza.  An unexpected abundance of green beans led to green bean fries, and the cream cheese in the refrigerator door became the basis for dill pickle roll ups. 

It’s a sickness.  I’m not sure what to call this sort of mental illness, but I’m not sure anyone wants it cured really.  Do they?  I always cook too much food.  Last Thanksgiving I made two complete turkey dinners simultaneously while keeping track of every ingredient because of food allergies.  I love to make good food for the people I love.  I love it so much that I sometimes lose my mind and make 3, 4 or even 5 times what is expected. 

I grew up in Texas where we learn early on that “Food is Love,” and if loving you is wrong do you really want me to be right?