Allow me to embarrass myself:
When I can’t sleep at night, I think about food. I analyze recipes. I scrutinize them. I think about ingredients and techniques and plan out what I’m going to make in the morning. For whatever reason, I find comfort in this soothing mechanism because it tires out my mind. And I enjoy it.
This isn’t something new- it all stared when my youngest son was born. He had severe colic and screamed his head off from 6am- 6pm for six weeks straight. It was mental torture. There was no sleeping, no showering, no putting him down. I thought about food to stay sane. It distracted me. During this time I taught myself the metric system, demystified sourdough, scribbled recipe ideas on the back of junk mail, and dreamed of an heirloom garden. Was I going mad? Probably. But in retrospect, this otherwise
noisy difficult time in my life turned out to be surprisingly productive.
Three years later……