My husband loves nothing better than a bowl of rich, steaming beef stew, ladled over a generous portion of creamy mashed potatoes. He starts talking about it in late summer, when our carrots are plumping up and looking like they might need pulling soon. He walks out to our backyard and surveys the lacy green carrot tops. He puts his hands on his hips, grins and cuts me a sideways glance that means, “I’m about to ask you for something.”
“You know what I like?” he says, as though I haven’t been married to him for 27 years and don’t know exactly what he does and doesn’t like. (Likes: crusty white bread, dark chocolate, merlot, apple pie, licorice, Marmite on toast, sharp cheddar cheese, fish and chips, bread pudding and a good cup of tea. Dislikes: yogurt, corn, pork, cherries, radishes, pickles, Gorgonzola, any nut besides peanuts and cashews, and anything spicy.) I know what he’s going to say. He likes beef stew. He likes a hearty, thick stew packed with tender beef chunks, carrots, parsnips, onions and mushrooms. And he likes me to make it for him.
Before you cluck your tongue in dismay at our antiquated spousal roles, consider this: I love making beef stew and I’m happy to do it. It requires no special technique. There’s nothing tricky or mysterious about it. You just throw the ingredients in a pot and simmer until you’re ready to eat. It does, however, require you to spend time chopping vegetables, which is exactly what I love about it. The act of washing, slicing and dicing forces me to slow down and, at extreme risk of sounding earnestly New Age, be in the moment. It’s just me, my knife and a pile of veggies.
As I make my way through the pile, one chop at a time, I let my mind wander (not too far from my fingers, of course, as they’re in such close proximity to the blade) and settle aimlessly on this thought or that. Sometimes I worry and sometimes I think about the next article I need to write and sometimes I feel a great contentment wash over me. I’m at home, in my kitchen, chopping vegetables for a delicious stew. In a couple of hours, the two people I love most in the world will sit down at the table with me and enjoy what I’ve prepared. It’s a little Norman Rockwell, but there you have it.