Tonight's dinner, a rather late dinner since I sat down to watch the Boilers lose to the Badgers (sad face), was individual chicken pot pies. Last night, I made coconut crusted cod on a bed of seasoned spinach (and had to saute a second batch of spinach as both boys wanted more), and other meals throughout this week included chicken enchiladas, and broccoli cheese soup with crusty Italian bread. Most of the meals I've been putting together take around an hour and a half from start to finish, but in the end, hearing the boys say, "Mmmmm, that was good" and "Thanks, Mom" make the time well worth it. I've also found, too, that the entire process is almost a meditative one. I've never been so mindful about a knife chopping an onion or the thickening of a sauce like I find myself now.
Another change I've noticed is the more I cook, the braver I'm becoming with using herbs and spices. I never used to work with anything beyond a bit of salt and pepper, but now I go to all the herbs I grew then dried last summer, and I've added more spices to my cupboard. Tonight's chicken pot pie, though tasty with just some salt and pepper, took on a fuller flavor after I added some thyme and rosemary. The buttery crust combined with the flavors of the filling, adding a just-right sweetness to the dish. I'm pretty sure not a drop remained in any of our bowls. Angel Baby even used his fingers to get the last few drops of the filling at the bottom of his bowl. Such was the case with the enchiladas and the broccoli/cheese soup.
Tomorrow is bread day. Though I'm not sure what I'll go with for dinner, I do know I'll bake a loaf of bread. Maybe the bread could be dinner: French toast. Eggs in a basket. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. So many possibilities just from a loaf of bread.