Two women sitting at the end of a table laden with plates of food.

My sister and I, sharing a meal with friends in Fez, Morocco

Those of you who follow me on Twitter and Facebook know that I’m a foodie. I love everything about food: carefully choosing the ingredients for a lovely meal, the appearance, the aroma. I love food. Love it.

And so I tend to think about it and most certainly micro-blog about it often. Some would say too often.

So I get a lot of flack for my “tweets” that reference food. And so I started to think about why I’m so chatty about¬† food. I’ve come up with two reasons.

First of all, everyone thinks about food and everyone eats, probably just as much as I do. They just aren’t posting about it. They may even eat some of the “odd” (others’ words, not mine) things that I choose to prepare and/or eat. But again, they’re not blogging about it like I am.

But the second, and more important, reason that food holds a near and dear place in my heart is in its significance. It’s about more than the food. It’s about the experience. The thought and care that I take is because I am providing memorable meals for myself and my family. We probably only sit down and eat dinner together five nights a week. I want to cherish those moments. And food is an integral part of the equation.

Laughter, joking, smiles, and music often accompany the meals that we enjoy, but there’s something about preparing and savoring a wonderful meal that brings people together.

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