I cook everything from scratch always. I fantasize about the process of cooking like other people do about shopping or lounging on the beach. I live like I constantly expect a bunch of hungry guests to appear on my doorstep. I have two spice cabinets filled to capacity and a pantry that’s bigger than my apartment at Cornell.
But still my husband regularly asks with a sad expression of somebody who has no idea what Ukrainian women are all about,
“Is there any food?”