Today I am making applesauce. Tons and tons of applesauce. The whole apartment smells like warm apples, like childhood. Even though it's grey and rainy outside, in here it's a domestic dream, all rocking chairs and Sunday dinners.

Yesterday D. and I drove around the city, collecting fruits from the homes of her friends' parents. We got blackberries, yellow plums, (passed on the red plums, but might go back), and tons of apples. It took me all night, plus a bit of this morning, just to peel and core them all. Now I'm making, like I said before, applesauce.

There's something really rewarding about domesticity, I have to say. I hated all things domestic when I was a teenager, choosing instead to cook everything I could in the microwave. I was especially fond of those stuffed chicken breasts from Costco, Kraft Dinner, and ice cream. Only when I was trying to impress someone - dinner parties, Christmas gifts - did I lower myself to cook. I think even then I knew the power of cooking "with love", but was scared to use it.

So maybe you can see where I'm going with this, I don't know.

H's grandpa died on Saturday, and it's thrown him for a bit of a loop. I don't want to broadcast too much about his feelings here on the internet - it's not my place to do so - but it should be said that he's pretty distraught. First, because his grandpa just died. Second, because he can't be in Sweden with his family. It's an ongoing conflict. He loves his family so much, and he hates being away from them at the best of times... anyways.

I have this problem. I always want to fix things. Anyone close to me knows this; sometimes I stick my nose where it doesn't belong, get in people's business, and try to "fix" things that can't be fixed. I... just... I don't know what to say when people are upset, you know? My mother... I don't want to talk about her too much either, but let's just say the things she would say about herself. She can't handle conflict. She can't handle strong emotions. She runs from other people's sadness, depression, etc. She's never exactly been the type to offer a "shoulder to cry on". I realized this pretty early on, and vowed to be the opposite: the one with the open door and the coffee brewing, the sympathetic eyes, the right words for every situation. But as much as I want to be that person, I just... don't know how to do it. Life isn't a movie, and I don't know the magic words to make people feel better.

So I cook.

Today I'm making applesauce. Last night I made pork roast, baby potatoes, blackberry jam. The night before, we grilled steaks. If H asked me to bake him a chocolate torte right now, I'd do it. Food has power, you know?

That's what I want this post to be about - the power of food in difficult situations. I'm not up to writing "grammatically", with "proper sentences" and whatnot... today I just want to get my ideas on the page. So apologies for any poor grammar or word choice. Here are some memories I relate to food:

• My mother loves curry, but her husband doesn't really like Indian food. So the first time he left her for another woman, and my mom was so distraught, the only thing I could think to do was make curried chicken. I'd never made curry before in my life, and I found a recipe in this horrible 60's cookbook (there was a jello salad on the front cover). I spent hours on the chicken, but I was young, and didn't know to taste the food while preparing it. It turned out really bland. But the thought was there.
  
• The night before I moved to Alberta, A. came over and we drank warm milk with honey. We had an excellent chat, and really connected as people. She and I have been really close ever since.
  
• When my cousin died a few years ago, the whole family was devastated. Most of them weren't eating, either. So I made a giant lasagne, knowing that no-one would be able to turn it down, and they didn't :) It was gone in minutes :)
  
• ...and today I make applesauce, because H. loves apples, and the scent of warm apples will (hopefully) take some of his pain away.
  

Have any food stories to share? Post them in the comments.