Valentines

The other night Maggie made an oatmeal cake.  It was great.  When our guests left, 3/4 of the cake was gone too. 
Sometimes I think Maggie is a really gifted cook.  She is.
The fresh ground whole wheat, the eggs from our back yard chickens, the real butter, of course.....
But the biggest difference between Maggie's oatmeal cake and the one in the Better Homes and Gardens cookbook is that she actually made it.
One cake is in a picture and the other is, or was, on our table.

With one traditional exception, I am not fond of Valentine's day.
The world celebrates a day about "love" - but only the kind that fits on a Hallmark card - not the kind that sits at your kitchen table. 
Not the kind that mixes sugar and salt. 
Or that whips through hard butter and hard hearts. 
Or that stays in the fiery furnace of life to produce something edible and good.

Valentine's cards and flowers can be sweet, but Serge making me coffee every morning that he doesn't even drink, or going to work every day to provide for our family, or going to China to pick up a baby girl, that's the kind of love you can put on your table. 
The difference between the love in the card and the love in your prewarmed car in the drive way is like the difference between Maggie's cake and the BHG picture.  I'll take the real cake, even if a messy kitchen comes with it.