A couple of years ago, my little ohana was going through a rough spot. We had suffered a few serious blows at the hands of fate, that despite our best efforts to recover/overcome, we were struggling. I put on a brave face, because I'm a mommy before anything & my flock of fowl needed me. But I was breaking inside.
So I turned to cooking. Only I didn't have a pot big enough to cook what I wanted, which was a GIANT batch of Portuguese (or Pordagee as I grew up calling it) Bean Soup. The one dish, that without fail, always soothes me. Better than chocolate, this soup reminds me of carefree days when my whole family would gather at my grandparents' (on Dad's side) house for our after midnight mass at nine o'clock snack on Christmas Eve. This soup is my happy place.
Anyway, I wanted to make enough soup to freeze for easy weeknight meals throughout the winter. Because it gets cold & sometimes the sun doesn't shine & when that happens, you want yum. But I didn't have a pot big enough to do this in & using two pots is a pain in the okole (behind).
I made it my mission to find a pot big enough to fulfill my vision of enough soup to feed an army, or as some like to call it, the ohana. It was not easy. Afterall, I was looking for something large enough to hold at least eight to ten quarts of liquid love. Those aren't cheap & even harder to find without going to that magical land where pots are made.
Then one day there he was. This glorious twelve quart holder of awesomeness. I immediately snapped him up, despite my boys' protests that he was too big. I brought him home & named him Quincy. I use him regularly & not just for soup.
Now I'm sure you're all wondering why I choose the name Quincy. Well it's simple.
When I was growing up I had a hanai (adopted) uncle by that name, who was always in the kitchen during family gatherings, chatting with my grandparents & the other adults. He always had a smile & a hug for us. His presence was one of those reassuring sights that let you know that it was going to be a good day. The kitchen seemed empty without him.
So, I love my pot named Quincy because much like my uncle, he is always in my kitchen, reassuring me that things will be fine. That life will work out, maybe not always the way we want it to, but the way it is meant to be. That happiness is not measured by what you have, but by who you share it with.
Okay, I'm done. You can wake up & go back to your life now.
Aloha hugs,
~Clare
So I turned to cooking. Only I didn't have a pot big enough to cook what I wanted, which was a GIANT batch of Portuguese (or Pordagee as I grew up calling it) Bean Soup. The one dish, that without fail, always soothes me. Better than chocolate, this soup reminds me of carefree days when my whole family would gather at my grandparents' (on Dad's side) house for our after midnight mass at nine o'clock snack on Christmas Eve. This soup is my happy place.
Anyway, I wanted to make enough soup to freeze for easy weeknight meals throughout the winter. Because it gets cold & sometimes the sun doesn't shine & when that happens, you want yum. But I didn't have a pot big enough to do this in & using two pots is a pain in the okole (behind).
I made it my mission to find a pot big enough to fulfill my vision of enough soup to feed an army, or as some like to call it, the ohana. It was not easy. Afterall, I was looking for something large enough to hold at least eight to ten quarts of liquid love. Those aren't cheap & even harder to find without going to that magical land where pots are made.
Then one day there he was. This glorious twelve quart holder of awesomeness. I immediately snapped him up, despite my boys' protests that he was too big. I brought him home & named him Quincy. I use him regularly & not just for soup.
Now I'm sure you're all wondering why I choose the name Quincy. Well it's simple.
When I was growing up I had a hanai (adopted) uncle by that name, who was always in the kitchen during family gatherings, chatting with my grandparents & the other adults. He always had a smile & a hug for us. His presence was one of those reassuring sights that let you know that it was going to be a good day. The kitchen seemed empty without him.
So, I love my pot named Quincy because much like my uncle, he is always in my kitchen, reassuring me that things will be fine. That life will work out, maybe not always the way we want it to, but the way it is meant to be. That happiness is not measured by what you have, but by who you share it with.
Okay, I'm done. You can wake up & go back to your life now.
Aloha hugs,
~Clare
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