A Stack of Bowls

Very shortly after I purged processed foods from my kitchen and started repairing my delicate appetite from scratch, meal by meal, I realized I needed more bowls.

Some nights I would soak oatmeal in warm water and whey, soak white beans in water and soak buckwheat flour in buttermilk. On top of that, the next morning before those bowls were washed, I'd whisk up a fritatta, pound a sauerkraut-bound cabbage to release the juices, mound food waste in a bowl headed for the compost heap, and... find myself out of bowls, still having a carob cake to make and possibly bread. 

I needed more bowls. 

I remember telling my mom and she said that she too had come to this realization. We both bought some bowls that week. I cleared out a whole {invaluable!} shelf just for bowls. My mom wound up giving me some of the extra bowls she'd bought. I felt rich in bowls. 

But guess what? I still run out now and then.

If you're planning to have big from-scratch cooking days a couple times a week, I suggest you invest in a shelf-full of various-sized bowls. 

Now, it seems this could be a clutter problem, but the cool thing is: cooking these traditional recipes that we'll be talking about has led me to actually put away many of the tools and gadgets I used to use.

Today the only equipment I use on a weekly basis are: 

• Bowls 
• Knives, wooden spoons, measuring spoons and cups
• Cast iron cookware
• A mortal/pestle
• An invaluable immersion blender {thanks mom!}
• funnels and jars
• and a big soup pot

No toaster {though I suppose I could use one} no countertop blender, no microwave, I hardly ever even use my mixer, no need for chopping gadgets or garlic presses and I really don't need non-stick pans.

This diet change has equalled a life change for me. I'm truly getting back to basics and it's getting into my core. 

I love the feeling of a heavy slab of wood, smooth from use, the large knife in my hand as it crushes another clove of garlic, the sound and smell of that pungent, crunchy gift of the earth as I dice the crush and slide it into warm oil.

I love the quiet of a homemade house where time is given to such things as crushing peppercorns by hand in a bowl made of rock and where soups simmer fragrantly for eight hours. No roaring or beeping or crackling of plastics. 

But it is not the lack of loud or frustrating gadgets or new inventions, nor the sacrifice of time that makes a home peaceful. It is the heart.

And for this homemaker, in particular, it is gratitude.

When I am grateful for my redemption in Christ, then I find peace. And, as a homemaker, I find myself in a place of power: my gratitude and joyful acceptance of my situation brings peace to my home and family. 

Is there a better gift I could offer them?

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