On Love and Baked Beans

I think it's time for me to spill the beans. I've been mulling it over for a long time, how to tell you all the news, and as long as I couldn't figure out how to tell it, I thought it best just to keep it to myself. It's been a long time since I've had much of an appetite for cooking, is the thing. And writing about cooking when you're not in the mood to eat isn't a lot of fun, not for the writer and not for the readers, either.

The truth is, Ben and I parted ways a few months ago. It was a long, hard winter in more ways than one. But we did our very best, I think, tried as hard as we could.

Ben was a huge part of this website, a loyal eater and regular inspiration for the posts I wrote, so his absence in my life is making blogging harder than I expected. Part of it was the elephant-in-the-room effect. But cooking for one, as I think many of you know, can be tough, too. Newspaper recipes don't inspire me and I can't seem to work up an appetite for much beyond spaghetti with tomato sauce and the occasional salad.

Tonight, standing in line at the grocery store with my dutiful purchases of low-fat yogurt, fibrous cereal and pre-washed arugula, I suddenly got the urge, rather the hunger, for baked beans. When I was a little girl, my father made baked beans from a can on a regular basis and for me, it's one of my most reliable comfort foods. I couldn't believe it hadn't occurred to me sooner. I zipped out of the line to the bean aisle, grabbed a can and finished checking out.

And indeed, as I ate them heated up and spooned onto a plate with braised kale, it felt good to finally be hungry for something. Cloying, fudgy, vinegary baked beans: who knew that they'd be the things that would make me actually want to enter my kitchen again? The mind and the stomach work in mysterious ways.

And you know, despite all the rain that seems to be following me from New York to Los Angeles to Berlin and back, life keeps surprising me with unexpected moments of joy and peace. I'm holding onto those with one hand and a can of baked beans with the other. Bear with me as I find my way back to the stove.

Comments

[tara]

How truly human of you, as trite as that sounds, to share your news with us as openly as you've shared your meals.

My Mum is one to say "this too shall pass" and as it does, we're here for the journey - baked beans and all.

[Molly]

You are so strong, my friend, and you inspire me. Sending all kinds of love. xo

[MsGourmet]

May your moments of unexpected joy & peace give you the strength and clarity to move forward at this difficult time xox

[Mandee]

I'm so sorry, Luisa, but rest assured that we'll be here--anxious to read whatever inspires you.

[maggie (p&c)]

Oh Luisa, I'm so, so sorry.
Hope you are taking good care of yourself (one can of comforting baked beans at a time) and leaning on your friends too. If you need another, I'd be honored :)

[claudia (cook eat FRET)]

breathe deeply and often
so much lays before you

[jenny]

luisa,

it's got to be strange the way we your readers feel like we get to know you--at least a little--while we remain faceless ghosts of the vast, teeming web. but after reading you for almost two years, I guess I feel I ok about saying that my heart goes out to you and that I'm sending you thoughts of comfort and strength from my own little corner of the web here in boston. for reasons I hope are not entirely selfish, I'm hoping that, can of baked beans by can of baked beans, you'll find your appetite-- for food, for cooking, for life--gently returning.

in the meantime, take heart: one of my best friends got through a divorce with baked beans (no joke). maybe it's that those beans are a little bit like life: the sweet and the vinegar mixed all together.

blessings,
jenny

[alex codlin]

sorry to hear this news. hang in there. you will get the passion back for food and life soon!

[Victoria]

Dearest Luisa,

You have been on my mind, and I've been wondering how you are, especially since Ben's name has been conspicuously absent from this site.

How odd that you would write this post on a day that I ate Heinz Vegetarian Baked Beans on toast. I guess comfort food for a person raised by someone who grew up in wartime England, where food was rationed until 1954, can seem a little strange to some people. I'm sure you understand though.

This post is beautiful in its own Luisa way. We are all pulling for you. You have a lot of people who consider you a friend. You only have to ask, and each one of us will be there.

Thinking of you.

[Malina]

Thanks for sharing your story. Your honesty is both courageous and admirable.

[shauna]

Oh sweet Luisa,

Thank you. For being honest and yourself, lovely as always, inspiring even when you feel you have nothing to give. You do. The kitchen will come back.

How strange it would have been if you had been able to go on as always. The silence is probably necessary.

Your strength amazes me.

xoxo

[Jess]

Beautifully and bravely written, Luisa. You lift me up, even when you're the one who needs lifting.

[ellise]

A beautiful, heartbreaking post. We have all been there, with our cans of baked beans (or frozen pizzas). You will find your way back to the kitchen in your own time, when you're ready, and when you do, it'll be fabulous.

[Julie]

Sending good thoughts. Heartbreak is hard but eventualy the sun shines. I know good things will come your way.

[molly]

You are a glory of a person, and I feel you - and your writing - always.

[Kelly]

I first started reading your blog when I came across your recipe for homemade ricotta cheese earlier this winter. I have since checked your blog diligently every week and I have often found myself lost in your voice. I'm so sorry to read about your personal struggles but part of me feels so honored, as a reader of your blog, to be let in to those corners of your life however dark those corners may be. Take it day by day and know that even on those days where you feel totally alone you still have your friends, family, and all of us of course.

Maybe we should be sending you recipes to inspire you? :)

[Leah]

oh honey.

You are one tough cookie. You take as long as you want and dig into as many cans as you need.

We'll be here.

Sending you all my love. xoxox

[kickpleat]

I too take comfort in canned baked beans on white bread slathered in butter (tho it was margarine back in the day). Beautifully written honest post. One foot forward and a can of beans close by.

[Sarah]

Sorry to hear you are having such a hard time. Life is beautiful,short and surprising. Take the experiences as they come. We will be here . . .

[debbie]

Oh Luisa, I'm so sorry to read this. And I'm even more impressed by your ability to write so beautifully about something so painful, even while you're living it.

[elizabeth]

So, so sorry about your personal troubles, but I'm confident you'll ease yourself back to the stove when you're ready. It certainly doesn't help that the past month has been nothing but gloomy to boot, but the sun will come out again...sooner or later.

Take your time and come back when you're ready--I know I'll be waiting patiently!

[nicole]

It's hard, I know. How funny that last fall after I parted ways with my bf I ate a lot of baked beans (vegetarian, Heinz) -- they really hit the spot in more ways than one and were just total comfort for me. I wish you comfort, too.

[Megan]

Luisa, this is beautifully expressed. Cheers to whatever's next.

[Laura]

Luisa,

I have been reading you for a long time now, but have never commented. I am so sorry about that! You really spoke to me about the cooking, because I feel the same way, although it is different. Thank you for sharing your life with us, your beautiful writing is an inspiration. Do what you need to do to restore your spirit. I've found myself, in my times of needing comfort, seeking out soup and croissants. Whatever restores the soul, yes?

[mon ami]

How amazingly moving I found this post. Maybe it is because I also turn to baked beans as comfort food but most likely because your honesty was so touching.

thank you for sharing, as always
xo

[Emily]

food has a way of bringing us back to life in more ways than one. sweet thoughts to you.

[Jennifer Hess]

I wish I had something profound to say, or helpful, but mostly, I hope that your smile, your verve, and your appetite return soon.

The end of a relationship, particularly with someone you thought would be with you forever, can be so unbearably hard, but it can take you places you never dreamed of. Wishing you well.

[Lisa]

Here's to the next chapter in what has obviously been a good life. Baked beans rock!

[Meg]

I'm sorry. Wounds to the heart are particularly tough to sort out, sometimes all the more so because nobody can see them.

I hope your cravings for odds and ends keep sending you back to your kitchen for satisfaction, or roaming, whether or not it leads to postings.

[Marilyn]

How honest of you to share your hardest and innermost thoughts, and do it beautifully. Eat beans, take your time, and take comfort as you like it. Clearly, you will be back at the stove.

[trace]

I too love to cook for people and sometimes in life the grocery store, which is usually so filled with excitement, can be the saddest place in the world. But just keep on keeping on Luisa, eat tinned beans when you need to and smile to yourself when you can because this too shall pass. You are aces babe and your research is critical!

[Amanda B]

Luisa, my heart broke when I read this post. Seriously. You don't know me but I've been a longtime follower and I want you to know that if you ever need baked beans again, you call me and I will have a HUGE shipment sent from California to NYC. I wish all the best and an appetite for ice cream ( I hear that nurses a broken heart). Much love...

[Dana]

I have been there and I wish I could send you a magic pill to make the next six months easier. The truth is that the only way to live through it is to live through it. The ugliness, the sadness, and the heartbreak. And then, on the other side, you are stronger. Each day keep reminding yourself of that. The only way to live through it is to LIVE through it. Best to you. There are many many people who are rooting for you!

[andrea]

Luisa, your writing makes even something this heartbreaking beautiful in its own moving way--thank you for sharing with us.

Sending warm thoughts to you.

[Erada]

It will get better. Slowly,but it will.

[Elizabeth]

I am so so sorry.
I hope you get your appetite back soon.

[Dawn-Elin Fraser]

I am so sorry to hear your news. Please know that your writing puts a healing energy out into the world. Your blog is one of my greatest comforts.

[Justin]

Luisa, I'm so very sorry. Thanks for your openness and strength. You are an inspiration.

[Honeybee]

I'm very sorry to hear that. I had been wondering about you not mentioning Ben or the wedding. You're very brave. I hope you and Ben are doing ok.

[anya]

Luisa, you are a courageous young woman to be so open about what's bitterly painful. I am joing the others to say you are an inspiration.

[emma]

oh no. i'm so sorry. you are very brave to write so openly and beautifully about this.

lots of love to you

[Fairly Odd Mother]

What a beautiful way to break such sad news to us all. May the coming months be brighter.

[gemma]

I know you don't feel like cooking... but if you feel like eating come upstairs EVERY night. I am cooking up a storm these days. Trust me, once you taste some of the items I've been dishing up you'll find the way back to your stove pretty darn quick;)
Love you masses

[Sirena]

Luisa, I'm so sorry you've been going through such a rough time. For me, as a reader, your site has always remained inspiring and beautifully written and a must-read whether you're cooking or opening a can. After all, as you pointed out, it's about finding what you're hungry for. Good luck! I hope the summer sunshine that is finally hitting the east coast cheers and bolsters you a bit today.

[Emily]

This too shall pass, my dear.

Perhaps the oldest advice in the universe, but one of the truest.

Good luck to you, and know that you have hundreds of friends out here pulling for you. The kitchen will find you again, not to worry.

[Bernie]

Thanks for thinking of your readers while you're going through a tough time. We'll be here when you get cooking again!

[Carolyn]

You will get to the other side of this, Luisa. But in those moments when you're feeling especially low, please know how special you are, and that you are loved by so many of us!

[TheKitchenWitch]

Only you could write about opening a can and inspire tears.

We're out here, thinking of you and sending you lots of virtual hugs and support.

Cooking for one blows. It's even worse than cooking for 2 finicky children. But I know you will weather this with your usual grace, and we are here waiting for you. And cheering you on.

[Mama JJ]

Thanks for sharing, Luisa. I appreciate your vulnerability.

[Stephanie]

As on who has "been there done that" rest assured that you will enjoy food again and the kitchen and writing! It will be a different feeling of joy this next time around and your creative mind is just waiting for the body to catch up!

Change is a good thing, it just takes time to realize it!

Give yourself all the time you need! It's worth it!