Boil, boil, my pasta pot

Being a quarter Sicilian (where my paisans at?), food is an integral part of my life. I'm not just talking for basic survival purposes, which is, of course, accurate, but I really mean that food - good food - comes in near the top of my Maslow's hierarchy of needs, right up there with love, belonging, esteem, and self-actualization.

Image via Wikipedia - pasta fits right in the middle of that purple "self-actualization" section

Not only do I describe food as an interest in my life; I'd call it (and eating) more of a hobby. I'll let my ever-evolving waistline speak for itself when it comes to health, but again, food for me is much more than sustaining my body; it's a way to feel, to think, to live, and to connect with people.

I say all this because I had an epiphany last Thursday morning. I was up at 6:30 a.m., making my mom's spaghetti sauce. For those of you who have never had Harriet's spaghetti sauce, let me tell you, it is a TREAT. First of all, the recipe makes a TON, so it's good to share and to have beaucoup leftovers. The real beauty, though, what makes it so delicious, is that all of the ingredients simmer all day long in the crock pot, marrying their flavors for a delicious conclusion at dinnertime.

But that delicious saucy conclusion takes a lot of work, and a lot of dedication. First, there's the early wake-up call (and yeah, I could have made it later in the day, but then it wouldn't have been able to simmer as long! Remember, simmering is key). Then, there's all the prep work that goes into the sauce - browning the meat, chopping the onions and garlic, prepping all the spices, mixing it all together... it's quite a commitment to make this sauce.

There's the rub, though - the delicious outcome is a result of the commitment. Only through the sacrifice of getting up early, of investing precious time in the preparation of the meal, can the meal truly be enjoyed at the end of the day. Making my mom's spaghetti sauce is a labor of love, and the proof is in the pasta sauce.

My epiphany came from consideration of that labor of love. How much more would other pieces of my life benefit if I committed myself to them in the same way I commit to my mom's pasta sauce? Isn't every good thing, every thing that benefits others, worthy of some hard work and sacrifice? Sure, if I give of my utmost self and abilities each day, it's going to make me tired, it's going to feel like I'm "emptying my bucket" with no immediate prospect of filling it again. But eventually, all of the hard work will come to fruition.

Someday, I'll see the finished product of my labors, much like I get to come home to a delicious pot of pasta sauce after a long day's prep work and simmering. But in the same way that I have to trust that my early morning work on my cooking will result in my favorite conclusion - a delicious meal - I must trust in my daily life that my hard work will someday be of benefit to others (even if I don't see it now).

Where can this mantra of "trusting the process" (as cliche as that might seem) benefit you in your life? Where might you dedicate yourself better to your work, believing that in the end you'll benefit from that commitment? What can be your labor of love, your "pasta sauce," today?

These are the questions I ask myself this morning, as I contemplate my mother's pasta sauce (which is also making my stomach rumble). Pasta makes me think of home, of family, of togetherness, of blessings. I want to try to find the same joy in my work process today as I do in cooking, even if the outcome is not as delicious. I want my life to be a labor of love, committed to making the world a better place, one "pot of pasta" at a time.

This post is brought to you in part by Strega Nona