Like A Popsicle In Summer

When Sean and I decide to make a meal together, to cook together - It's good. 

Myself, and a giant empty soup pot: twelve different kinds of beans (dried), garlic, yellow onion, sweet red pepper, hot pepper (unknown type, came from a friend's garden), celery, carrots, tomatoes, ham, salami, homemade chicken stock, salt, pepper. I simply used whatever we had in our fridge, whatever was on hand. Yes, fresh homemade chicken stock was "whatever we had in our fridge".

Sean, apart from making the chicken stock the day before, crafted some hand made bread. I would say "homemade" but that might imply that we own a bread maker, which we don't. Our home has, what do they call those... right, a baker.

We hadn't cooked together in a while. It was redemptive. Our house - the smell alone was enough.

There are always friends we think of when we cook. Good friends. Close friends. Friends who love food, who love to eat, who love to laugh, who desire to live life with dirty hands, and drippy beards. My friends, you were missed, but thought of fondly - as always.