As I’m sauteeing garlic, my five-year-old picks basil from the garden and plucks off the leaves, my 2-year-old cracks eggs expertly in a bowl and my husband chops mushrooms and olives.
We’re making a simple vegetable frittata for dinner. As we all fall into our roles to the backdrop of Van Morrisson singing, it occurs to me we are a cooking family.
It feels so natural to have everyone involved, for the little ones to be asking questions about why sometimes the yolks break and snatching tastes along the way, to my husband and I bouncing ideas off each other about ingredients and spices. It’s just something we do, and I hope continue for many, many years.