Like most girls (ladies?) my age, I’m a proud believer of the Beyonce brand of feminism… But every now and then, it’s exciting to indulge that inner 1950’s housewife who can’t WAIT to be Mrs. Cavalero.
This is one of those times… Some friends decided to stop by, I wanted to make treats, and only had time to whip something up (ahhh, what a wife thing to say!) with what I already had in my kitchen. Voila! See above, homemade peanut butter cups. (They taste better than they look, promise. Anyway, I have some time to practice before I walk down the aisle and officially become a Mrs., so we’re cool.)
My dad’s grandparents owned a diner in Mississippi, and got through the Great Depression by selling the cakes his grandmother made. That’s how good a baker she was. And both of my grandmothers, and my own mom, never let a guest step through the door without some freshly made deliciousness waiting in the kitchen. So, getting all domestic and carrying on that tradition is so meaningful and grounding, especially with the crazy rollercoaster ride that is a career in Hollywood. It makes me feel connected to the people I love most in this world – my fiancé, my family, and my friends.
So, this may be a bold statement, but I stand by it: I feel like the fact that I had all the ingredients already in my house to make homemade peanut butter cups is solid evidence I’m ready to be a wife.
(Also, the fact that I made so many of them is solid evidence I do not take wedding diets seriously, at all… Isn’t that what big ball gown skirts are for? To hide all the peanut butter balls and engagement celebrations and happiness you just so happen to be storing on your hips? But that’s a blog for another time…)