Love with food

"Love" and "food" go together like "couch" and "butt."

**In case you hadn't noticed by that first sentence, health nuts beware: This post has not yet been rated by the nutritionally invisible society**

I so love to eat food, make food, share food, re-pin food, photograph food (to the public embarrassment of friends and family), and relive food in memory the way high school football stars relive their teen glory days. I just love food. I love with food, too. Not in the creepy way - I would probably keep that to myself. No, no. Food is a gift. Think about it.

What do people give the family when someone dies? How do we help a girlfriend handle a break-up? What is the one staple at every birthday celebration? Isn't there an old saying about the way to a man's heart? Whose hand are you not supposed to bite? (the one that feeds you, in case that one threw you).

How do you feel when the weather chills and the leaves turn? I feel caramel apples and pumpkin bread and broccoli cheese soup. It's a feeling, I swear.

Christmas morning feels like chocolate chip pancakes with pecans and maple syrup. Valentine's Day feels like Esther Price chocolates. Friday nights feel like pizza; hormonal stress feels like a snickers and some hot wings. A windfall (of the surprise cash variety) feels like medium rare Filet Mignon with a side of sweet stewed tomatoes and salty onion rings.

What better gift than emotional contentment through food? Insert gasp of horror if you never had a southern(ish) grandma who taught you that food is nourishment for the soul.

This morning we ate "I'm sorry for picking a fight with you and saying mean things" baked french toast. Last night, it was "So glad you're home from work" fresh bread and butter. My personal favorite is my husband's signature "Thanks for being a great mom" box of Junior Mints, other times known as "I'm sorry" Junior Mints or "I was thinking of you today" Junior Mints.

Do you love with food? Are you also wearing stretchy pants?