I love to cook, at least most days I do. There’s something therapeutic for me about the whole process of preparing, chopping, dicing, seasoning and cooking. The end result comes from serving it to those you love and seeing the expression on their face. Food fills the body and warms the soul.
There’s summer cooking, filled with grilling and summer salads, yet my absolute favorite cooking is when the leaves begin to change colors and the air turns cool. It’s “fall cooking” and I love that first day of turning on the oven and heating up the house with the comfort foods of fall.
It’s also that time of year that I call “soup season.” There’s nothing better than cooking a pot of soup served with warm bread. I love making soup, and I believe that love comes from my grandmother. I can remember many days at her house watching her put her big

Potato Leek Corn Chowder
cauldron on the stove and fill the counter with every vegetable under the sun! I loved those days of helping her make soup and I’m confident that she taught me everything I know about the process. I’ve been nicknamed the “soup-meister” of my family because no one else makes it like I do, which is just how my grandmother made it.
It took her hours to make soup, and when it was done she’d fill up a million containers of it to give to all of our families. No one was ever left hungry when my grandmother made soup! She made many different types, yet when someone was sick, she went to task of making her “beef barley vegetable” soup, which she said was “good for what ails you!” I’m happy to say that it took me years to get my recipe to taste like hers, and while it’s not exactly the same, it’s close enough.
I once asked her what the key ingredient was in her soup, to which she told me: “It’s the love. Always put love into whatever you make.” And I’ve remembered that ever since.
When my kids were little and I baked cookies they’d tell me how good they were and that they could taste all the love in them. To this day, they still say that.
And now my love says that too; with every cup of tea or bowl of soup he tells me he can taste the love, and isn’t that what cooking is about? It’s filling the bellies of your loved ones with good food, and warming their hearts with how much you love them.
It’s definitely “soup season” at the Jersey shore, especially at my house, where everyone is coming down with colds. My love wants my “chicken and rice” soup, and my daughter’s request is for my “potato leek corn chowder.”As far as my two vegan boys, they want good ‘ol “vegetable soup.” So many soups, yet I always find the time.
I will always find the time to take care of the ones’ I love, and any request for my soups is welcome. Today I’ll be in the kitchen with my own cauldron, just like my grandmothers’, firmly planted on the stove for the day. And in between stirring and simmering, I’ll be writing and making their “sick beds” more comfortable for them. By tonight they will have all “tasted” the love when they ate, and will be “feeling” the love as they lay their head down on clean sheets, warm blankets and fluffed up pillows.
And I’ll end the night with a warm cup of green tea and honey for everyone…including me!
Wishing you love and light,
~Anne Dennish~

Beef Barley Vegetable Soup with fresh baked French bread…as my grandmother said, “it’s good for what ails you!”


grandparents; I remember my son and his friends hanging out on it in high school, sharing all their stories with me; I remember that swing being my serenity spot at night when everyone went to sleep; and I remember it always being a source of comfort for my kids and I, and anyone else who needed to be outside and find peace.

and turning it into a reality; it’s our mind making something mundane seem rewarding; and it’s our heart learning to love all that we do.

history or a love like we’ve never known before. These are the ones that you have to grab a life preserver and hang on until the sea get’s calm. With each “angry” wave there’s a lesson and a story, and when we understand it and learn from it, the “gentle” waves begin, and the relationship strengthens.
that way.

lost sight of the blessings in our life, and in some way, taken them for granted, always believing that if they’re there in the first place, they’ll never be taken away. And that’s how a broken heart happens: we weren’t paying attention.
Broken hearts happen for many reasons, yet when you can put the hurt and blame aside, that’s when the reality comes in and the healing can start. When you take your own accountability in the brokenness, you heal, you become stronger, and you learn something about yourself…and with that, you’re given the gift of changing yourself.