Last week the atmosphere at Layston Grove took on a distinctly Italian feel when we spent the afternoon crafting our own pizzas.
One of the things that really appealed to me about moving into residential care was the idea of having my meals cooked for me. I have never been a big fan of the kitchen; I’d happily bake a cake for afternoon guests or make a delicious, steamed pudding at Christmas, but the day-to-day chore of meal preparation has never appealed.
I had never considered that I’d ever miss cooking or that I’d ever want to do it voluntarily, but it turns out that I do. Cooking with friends is very different to cooking alone. We make a social event out of our cooking club, chatting beforehand about what we would like to cook, sifting through recipes, eyeing up the photographs, reminiscing about restaurants that we have visited, family meals around the table.
I can’t believe that I am about to write this, but cooking is fun. We really do enjoy ourselves; the room is bright and airy, the company is wonderful, and the tea is flowing, and it really doesn’t matter how skilled we are, everything we cook smells and tastes amazing.
This week we prepared and cooked pizza, kneading the dough, chopping the toppings, and grating the cheese. It was a lot of fun.
We had a great sense of satisfaction and pride as we dished up our creations for all to enjoy, and we received a lot of praise, which is always nice.
A homemade pizza and a cold glass of wine, not a bad way to end the day.