I love it when other people cook for me. I was also surprised to find that I enjoyed cooking for other people too (well, once I started making things that were edible). There's something very nourishing and nurturing about it that I hadn't thought would appeal to me. I like hearing the compliments on how it tastes and I like it even more when someone polishes off what's on the plate and glances back at the kitchen, hopefully wondering if there's enough for seconds. Growing up, I had been such a tomboy that I paid little attention to cooking and thought of it as a chore or something that could be replaced by ordering takeout.
As long as I'm rambling, read the short story "
A Small, Good Thing" by Raymond Carver. It's a 30-page story in the collection of short stories called Cathedral if you want to read it in printed form. The final page makes me weep every time I read it. There's a line in there where the baker thinks, "It was better to be feeding people." That line's the first time I really thought about how I find it personally satisfying to share home-cooked food.
The other day a friend brought us some lasagna he had made. When he dropped it off, he apologized ahead of time saying he was disappointed that the sausage had had some gristle. I waved off his apologies since he's enough of a food snob that I don't think he would've shared it with us at all if he didn't think it tasted good. It tasted great and I didn't get any gristle in my piece. Gooey delightfulness with the perfect zing in his seasonings. So cheers to my friend and his lasagna and cheers to cooks everywhere!

( Recipe and bigger picture here )thread at cookingthread at food_porn