A person cooking is a person giving. Even the simplest food is a gift.

Fulfillment leaves an empty space where longing used to be.

The table is a meeting place, a gathering ground, the source of sustenance and nourishment, festivity, safety, and satisfaction. A person cooking is a person giving: even the simplest food is a gift.

The old days were slower. People buttered their bread without guilt and sat down to dinner en famille.

That family glaze of common references, jokes, events, calamities-that sense of a family being like a kitchen midden: layer upon layer of the things daily life is made of. The edifice that lovers build is by comparison delicate and one-dimensional.

Both happy and sad people can be cheered up by a nice meal.

Dinner alone is one of life's pleasures.