Meg’s Journey
My Mother 
My Mother was a fabulous cook – the kind of cook who experimented in the kitchen, shopped organic way before it was fashionable and was an early subscriber to Bon Appetit.
She read two papers each day and clipped interesting recipes from the Chicago Tribune each morning. If she couldn’t find anything interesting in the Trib to prepare she would thumb through her favorite cookbooks to find something unique.
Her afternoon cooking adventures started at 3:30 pm and ended when my Dad came home at 6:30 pm. The dining room table was set with sterling silver, antique glasses, lighted candles – classical music filled the house. For most homes this would have indicated a special occasion but in my house it was an every day affair.
She was 40 years old when I was born and my brother and sister were in college by the time I was in second grade so needless to say my afternoons were pretty peaceful. I always assumed that if I was fortunate to be at home with my children during the day that I would recreate that memory.
So it was a complete surprise and a huge disappointment when I found my own dinner hour so chaotic.
My Conversation with Kate
Six years ago as my life seemed to be imploding I went out with one of my oldest and dearest friends, Kate.
At that time, my husband was running an internet travel site, often traveling, and my three children were going in three different directions.
You would think I would spend my days quietly preparing for the afternoon frenzy but I found myself spending each hour my children were out of the house volunteering on school events, advocating for children with special needs… truly anything where I could feel like I had some level of control and some measure of success in my life. But, as those things go all of my doing was the undoing of me, which led to that evening with my friend.
Kate has been by my side since we met in fourth grade and as a first grade teacher I consider her an expert in all things relating to children so I was willing to do whatever she suggested. As I poured out my story over a glass of wine she said, “I want you to do three things.” “Ok – whatever you say” and I took out a piece of paper.
“Think of yourself as June Cleaver. “ I laughed as I was so far from June Cleaver (Leave it to Beaver aka “perfect Mom” for any of you who don’t know.) But she said, “No, seriously, June knew where she stood in the world. You’re a great Mom and you have to start believing in yourself again.” “Ok” I said “June Cleaver.” “Next, don’t answer the phone after 3 pm.” “3 pm” I said and finally she said “Buy yourself a crock pot.” With that last command I looked up and said a “crock pot?” “Yes, a crock pot.” “OK”
The Start of my Slow Cooking Journey
With my instructions in hand I went to bed peacefully – I had a plan. The next morning I went through my cabinets and found a Crock Pot (also referred to as a slow cooker) that I received at my wedding shower 19 years ago. Still in it’s box I looked inside and realized it was too small to prepare enough food for a family of 5.
So I headed to Williams Sonoma and I spent an hour studying crock pots and picked an All Clad Slow Cooker with an insert that I could use to saute food if needed (I loved that I only had one pot to clean) and two cookbooks.
I started to leaf through the cookbooks at home. I found the recipe prep time was too long and I was already in a serious time-poor mode. So off I went to Barnes and Noble and scanned the slow cooker section which was very under stocked in those days and bought a book titled “5 Ingredients or Less” I didn’t even look at the recipes until I got home.
And so my slow cooking journey began…
