Despite all my family's troubles, we would sit down for dinner every night. Food replaced words. "Are you still hungry? Do you want some more?" translated to "I love you." Even now, when I visit the parents, I'm told to wash my hands and then sit down and eat this. And that. And then try this. When I leave, I'm loaded up with a couple bags. I try protesting this every few months, all that work by my little tiger mother which she doesn't have to do. It cored me out when she once reluctantly admitted that food is something she's still able to give me.
Reading this discount cookbook ended up being a little difficult. With all the recipes, the author writes of her family memories full of boisterous generations and every recipe feeds 6 to 12. I'm still cooking for one but my peers have been building their families for several years now - I am envious, impatient, and not a little scared of, well, the future.
Someday, I'd like to use this cookbook like it's supposed to be used.