The Particular Comfort of Sausage Broccoli Pasta

I'm reading a book right now called The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender. It's a great tale about a young girl who can taste people's feelings through the food they make. Naturally, a review will come in time. But as I made one of my favorite suppers, one of Mark Bittman's recipes, a dish of sweet Italian sausage with mashed broccoli and bright olive oil, I couldn't help but think of the essence of that book, and how it applies to real life.

Food is a comfort for many people. Today was a rough mental health day for me, and I decided, on my way to the grocery store, that I would indulge, and treat myself to one of my favorite meals. Now, this pasta is far from genuinely expensive-perhaps $12 for the whole batch-but it's worth noting that when the going gets tough, the right plate of food can satisfy or soothe even the harshest emotional strain. 

What would this bowl say to me, if I had Particular Sadness' main character, Rose's, gift? I think it would taste like hurt, like a frustration at circumstances and a deep desire to feel better. And really, isn't that what friendship is? Having someone (or in this case, something) that acknowledges how you feel, and wants you to feel better? And that's the point of this post. Yes, people fill their emotional aches with vices-I doubt that's something the world can ever really eradicate. But how often do people really talk about the emotional strain that often leads people to seek comfort? And where do we turn when human interaction or advice simply isn't sufficient?

Cooking provides a kinesthetic release for me. I'm far from athletic (way too clumsy and introverted for group sports) and I've left behind all of my instruments (although I do want to learn a few). So when I'm chopping up vegetables or what have you, my mind peacefully drifts to a calm, relaxed state, able to better process through anything that may be troubling me as my hands move on autopilot. At the end, I've created something tasty, my mind feels freer, and I have something good to eat. Ultimately, that's a lot to be grateful for.