In Nigel Slater's book, Eat: The Little Book of Fast Food he writes of the intimacy of holding food in one's hand. "An intimacy you cannot get from the cold steel of a knife and fork or even a pair of wooden chopsticks." I immediately think of the service of communion and how I linger at the altar until my neighbors stand to go. After all, communion is . . . communal.
Henry is beginning to eat at the table. He gets pinches of broccoli and spoonfuls of sweet potato. His menu consists of breast milk and whatever I'm eating that can be easily miniaturized. Every bite is an adventure. Eating is no longer routine. It is an event to celebrate.
I want to celebrate. I want to cook for you.