If there’s one thing in life I’m certain of, it’s that I love food. I love watching it be prepared, I loved eating it, and most importantly, I love to cook. (Okay, I also know that I love my husband, family, friends, and of course, our future child. But that should go without saying.)
Last week, after some minor complications with my pregnancy, I was put on house arrest. Specifically, no cooking, cleaning, or anything strenuous.
My heart sank. I’m fine with taking eight weeks off from cleaning (it’s not like I enjoy washing clothes or dishes), but no cooking?! Catastrophic.
Initially, I thought John and I would starve. It’s not that he can’t or won’t cook (he’s much better in the kitchen than he’d like to admit), but rather that he already works ridiculously long hours as is. Who wants to come home at 8 pm and begin cooking after being out of the house for 14 hours?!
So we’re compromising. I am doing minimal kitchen prep (mostly on the weekend when John is around) while sitting in a chair — and to those who are unaware, it is much more difficult to slice and chop when you’re sitting down — and we’re preparing the bulk of our meals together; large, one pot recipes that can last three or four meals, just to buy us a little down time before we have to cook again. (We made a pretty fantastic pasta dish this week for dinner. Will try to post about it soon!)
The bad news? Fewer recipes and blog posts on Tasty Retreat.
The [hopefully] good news? Baby will stay put until we reach full term.
It’s a no-brainer. I need to take it easy.