I admit that when Janet and I were weekenders, there were often times when I resented having to cook all of our meals. It wasn’t that I wanted Janet to pitch, prep or take a turn preparing a meal. She has no interest in cooking and, truth be told, I had no desire (nor did she) to eat anything she might have prepared.

What irked me was being stuck in the kitchen while Janet sat out on either the front or back porch, leisurely reading a book or delightedly observing the dozens of birds that alight on our feeders and bird houses, a beautiful and hypnotizing experience. I felt left out, and put out, mostly because I don’t ever just throw a meal together haphazardly. We rarely eat sandwiches, but on a day when I wanted a less labor-intensive meal, sandwich-making meant carefully layering honey-mustard or mayo on good brioche rolls, followed by a bed of crisp lettuce, then rare roast beef and/or a slice or two of honey maple turkey, or, alternatively tuna fish salad laden with minced celery, red onion and finely chopped French cornichon pickles. The sandwiches were served with salty, crunchy Cape Cod potato chips and thinly sliced Klausen pickles (sold in the refrigerator section of Peck’s supermarket). No other pickle would suffice. In short, even the simplest meal I prepared deserved my attention to detail.

So, there we were in our lovely country home for only a couple of days each week, and I was busy cooking, then had to turn around and return to the workplace before I knew it. 

Interestingly, once we moved full-time to our house, my cooking duties stopped being a chore. The kitchen is my domain and I look forward to being there and I enjoy planning meals for the following day before we turn in for the night. For some time, we having been eating only two meals a day. We picked up this habit both in Italy and Mexico. We eat a substantial breakfast, and a late, hearty lunch that’s big enough to preclude having to eat dinner. Skipping a late and filling dinner is a healthy choice for us.

This year, during our six-month stay in Oaxaca, Mexico, I cooked more than I have on any other previous visit. Our studio has an ample-sized kitchen and we sprang for a toaster oven so big I could probably sleep in it. Over the years we have outfitted the kitchen there with just about anything I might need as far as pots, pans and cooking gadgets (spatulas, slotted spoons, cheese graters of various sizes, measuring cups) and the myriad other tools that make the cooking life easier.

I mostly prepare breakfast, which might consist of quesadillas, chicken enchiladas, or savory vegetable bread puddings called stratas. We always have fresh fruit salads laden with the deliciously ripe mangoes, papayas, bananas and berries I buy at the local produce markets. Often, as well, we each have a half an avocado, thinly sliced and doused with fresh lime juice, flaky sea salt and a sprinkle of chopped cilantro.

We returned home to Callicoon, NY this year in late April. I found a recipe in the New York Times by Melissa Clark, which reminded me of the many Moroccan dried fruit and chicken tagines Janet and I have enjoyed for years, when I make them. Clark’s recipe was based on a classic Ashkenazi dish served on Rosh Hashanah and other Jewish holidays. I very loosely based my recipe for “Chicken Thighs with Sweet Potatoes and Dried Fruit” on hers, leaving some ingredients out and adding others I thought would add some spunk. So, little by little I’m getting back into the swing of things.