This is nothing new, nothing extraordinary. Actually, it is extra ordinary, i.e. ordinary ordinary. I'm simply going to cook my way through my cookery books.
I have been collecting cookery books for many years and I treasure them. I read them like novels and they sit on my shelves, like old friends to pick up and put down whenever the mood takes me. Like friends, I have some real favourites and others with whom I don't spend a lot of time. Some are like my family, my identity. They make me feel strong and sure of myself, and certain that when I cook those favourite recipes, things are right in my world. I can feed my family and nuture them with good food, made with love.
It's what I like to do. It makes me happy.
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