Well, I'm doing it again. I'm making a recipe that no one else in my family will like. Tonight it is
Roasted Eggplant Soup, which to me sounds fantastic. I get to use some of the tomatoes and eggplant that came in our farm share. It's local, seasonal, and organic. It's all fantastically fresh and made from scratch. But does any of that really matter if no one else will eat it?
Why do I do it?
I slave away in the kitchen for hours, measuring, stirring, tasting. Trying to get it just right. Recipes I've saved are spilling out of my kitchen shelf and the big blue binder I try to keep them all in. Yet I still search for new recipes online and from friends. I drool over cookbooks in bookstores and subscribe to two different cooking magazines.
If I know I want a make a recipe for guests or a party, I test it out on my family first. This often means cutting the recipe in half and still throwing some of it away when no one eats it. You must understand, I make good food. People rave over my main dishes and desserts, my appetizers and brunch. People, in general, really like my cooking. Except none of these people live in my house.
The people that live in my house like pasta. With store-bought tomato sauce. They like pizza delivery and toast. They like ice cream and yogurt and cheese. Don't get me wrong, I like all of these things too. But I also want to have eggplant and arugula and leeks. I like
rhubarb and want to cook with it. I want to do crazy things with peaches and have everyone exclaim how wonderful they are. But alas, this doesn't happen in my house. Yet I can't give up and stop cooking. I am a chef at heart. For now, though, I am unsung chef.
My peas plants that sprouted in the windowsill last month are doing great outside on the deck. I'm going to train them onto the railing so they can just go crazy. 
Maybe in a couple months I will be able to make some of these:
Pea and Potato Cakes, from Simply Organic.
