I'm hungry, can you tell?

I've been reading the archives of Smitten Kitchen yesterday and today, and it's really reawakened my love for the kitchen.

I can remember being as young as four, getting to sit on the high barstool and sounding out recipes to my mom, watching and helping her cook. I can remember always wanting to be the one to break the eggs, and how happy I was when I finally did it right. By the age of nine I was capable of putting together a not-inedible meal (if mostly from boxes), and by the time I was a teenager I had a decent grasp on white gravy and a standard spaghetti sauce that whetted appetites, and just this past summer I was called a goddess for my chocolate chip cookies. Now, cooking is something I love. For several years, I had to cook for my family, but because there were so many of us, I never really got to experiment, and I had never had the opportunity to try so many different foods. (Artichokes, how have I missed you all my life?) Now, I have a much greater ability to try things that appeal to me, and I don't have to worry about pleasing everyone (just Jayell).

On my list of things I need to make fairly soon: a ravioli dish based on feta, which will involve my first attempt at pasta dough in at least three years, my cookies which Jayell has yet to taste, and a basic frittata. I've become good at making frittatas sized for 15 or so people, but now I get to try doing one just for the two of us.

Now to convince Jayell to drive me to the store in the car so I can pick up enough groceries.