my recipe box is my pill bottle

For various reasons, I've been in some emotional turmoil. No, these are not pregnancy hormones. Rather, they are the effects of having three sharply separated areas of my life: Work, which is the midline - little drama, sort of interesting, good people ... fine. Home, which is wonderful these days, what with these burbly little sensations of baby motion in my belly, a husband who seems totally in love with watching me grow rounder, sunshine pouring in the windows of my still-new, "I can't believe it's mine" house, and really, really cool friends. Then there is The Mom Reality. I never know what to expect from the woman. She's either the warmest, safest, kindest, funniest person I know, or she is TOTALLY CRAZY. We are talking Twilight Zone, people.

So lately, whether I find myself spitting mad and throwing my arms around in the air ... or, alternately, grinning and humming and padding around the house as the Queen of Domestic Bliss, I seem always to wind up thumbing through my recipe box and pulling out cards spotted with cooking oil, lovingly creased, many written in one of my grandmothers' handwriting. This is good comfort and stress release, and it's a good companion to peaceful joy, and it just so happens to feed our faces, too. It's better than valium. It's my mood stabilizer. (It's that, or TV. I love TV. I admit it.)

Spicy Mixed Bean Chili was on the menu this weekend, and it's so easy - toasted cumin seed, sauteed onion and garlic, minced chipotle in adobo, a can each of red kidney beans, pinto beans, and diced tomato (undrained), ancho chili powder, good dried oregano, simmer, serve with mom's cornbread, sour cream and cilantro, and think about the 1970s and how mom used to cook beans in a pressure cooker that shot steam three feet into the air, spitting hot water and howling its whistle ...

Or maybe it's Strawberry Buttermilk Ice Cream (yes, I know the strawberries are still from California at this time of year, but who can resist those shiny, happy red piles tumbling from those green plastic baskets?). Two cups water, two cups sugar, brought to boil and cooled completely, 4 pints pureed strawberry and two cups buttermilk - everything into the ice cream maker for 20 minutes and it's right back to 1982, sitting sticky-handed in the backyard and licking it right off the paddle ...

Or maybe it's Sweet Onion and Feta Risotto, my favorite meal in college, when all I had was one big pan and so many things to procrastinate, the stirring and stirring was just the ticket. Warm chicken stock, spoon cup by cup onto arborio rice as liquid evaporates, stir until creamy, throw in some feta, sauteed onion and chopped parsley before serving. Think about 1994, that crappy apartment, ugly birkinstocks, and eating bowl after bowl to gain the freshman 15 (and an additional sophomore 15) ...

Or maybe it's Gram's Lemon Merigue Pie, adapted with Meyer lemons. Her recipe card, in her loopy script, reminds me to take the "secret step" to make sure the filling turns out just right ... not revealing that here, no way, do you want me disowned?! Pull it from the oven just when the peaked whites turn that lovely amber shade and think about the way Gram still to this day deliciously licks her fingers after she's scraped the last filling from the bowl ...

Tonight - Toll House Chocolate Chip Cookies. Not from the recipe box, but from that same old trustworthy recipe on the chocolate chip bag. Hot cookies, cold milk, and (ahem) some TV should do the trick.