Then, am I what I cook?

Yesterday, in addition to cleaning the apartment, making cds for party favors, putting together a fruit salad, keeping the kids fed and in some semblance of balance, and hosting 10 kids for the better part of the afternoon, I made chicken stock and roasted pork.

I do like the art of slow cooking.  There was work involved in making those two things, but they cook themselves, really, which is why I decided to go ahead with some Sunday cooking to get a head start on the week's food.

Today, I made a "Zesty BBQ Zauce" to enjoy with the pork.  I'd kept the seasoning to a minimum when rubbing the pork shoulder because I wanted the meat to remain accessibly tasty for the kids (Gem, in particular, does not like spicy heat in his food).  The result was pork that was succulent, but tastes like, well, pork.

Making this sauce, I feel like I've embarked on journey within a journey.  While stirring the sauce and tasting, it wasn't knocking my socks off.  I did go the slacker route and use granulated garlic and minced dried onion rather than fresh.  I decided to add a glug of honey during the cooking and a dash more salt.

What was so interesting was that the sauce with the pork was delicious!  The meat and the sauce boosted each other and came together to be a really satisfying bite.  (Gem disagreed.  He has been adding wheat-free soy sauce to his pork.)

Today I also made chicken salad with the chicken I used to make the stock yesterday.  (The rice is cooking in the rice cooker as I type.  Dinner will be chicken salad and rice and some sort of veg.)  I roasted some broccoli with bacon and garlic.  I also roasted tomatoes for the first time.

Lately, I feel like I am spending so much time cooking.  If we are what we eat, more than that, I feel I might be what I cook.