apartment therapy changing the world, one room at a time

this might not be what you are going for here, but once when i was very upset at work (crying! eek) my co-worker handed me a nerdrope (the candy that is like liquorice with nerds stuck to it) and i was so touched. he knew i loved them and had one he was saving for himself but in that moment he was willing to share it with me. i never ate it and still have it, because it reminds me of how friends help us get through tough times.

@leonsartymom - That's a great story! Thanks for sharing! Also the idea of licorice covered with nerds sounds amazing. I will have to see if I can find that where I live.

before my dad died, we brought him pizza from a local place he loved. he was so sick of the hospital food and it had gotten to a point where his special diets (low sodium, low fat, low water -- LOTS of health problems!) weren't really going to matter or help his conditions, so we brought him some pizza maybe a week before he died, and i don't think i've ever seen someone appreciate something as simple as a favorite food so much. it sounds kind of lame typing it out here, but being able to make him smile was really nice.

I think food is very important, especially when eaten with others, and can think of many occasions when sharing a meal saved the day. Just last night, my ex-boyfriend and I had to have our kitten put down, which was just awful, especially since she was only 10 months old. As we were driving home, he asked if I wanted to get dinner. He said, "I could really use a meal and a drink right now." And yeah, it definitely made us feel better.

I'm definitely with you, Emily G. We had to put down a cat the other day, and it still hurts, but a big cry and then junk food for dinner made me feel much better. And what really mattered was my honey getting the junk food for us so I wouldn't have to mess with it, and the fact that he did it because he wanted to help me and he didn't know what else to do.

A few weeks after my mom died, I put some pinto beans on low to simmer all day, and went to lie down and wallow in my misery. As the beans started cooking and the scent of the onions, garlic and bacon wafted upstairs, I started to remember all the times she'd put those beans on (which meant we were out of money for the month), and how we hated to even smell them. But on this day, at one of the lowest points in my life, the smell was the best memory in the world. When they were done, I ate a big bowl with the obligatory "mom's chopped onions and Jiffy cornbread", and felt a thousand times better.

One of the kindest gifts I received after my mother passed was a simple email from a friend who said "Do you like to cook as therapy? I do and this recipe looked perfect." What followed was indeed a perfect therapy recipe - simple, yet thought-absorbing, and when finished, I had a batch of chocolate bread pudding with bourbon-pecan sauce.

Thanks again, Jennifer.

Oh yes. Last week was a *really* tough and challenging one for me, with the kind of stomach-crampy worry that meant I really couldn't bring myself to eat all weekend. Finally Sunday night came around and I realized I had a box of cream of wheat in the back of the pantry. My roommate and I tucked into big bowls with a little maple syrup, cinnamon and brown sugar, and things didn't seem quite as scary anymore.

When my Father passed away, I was understandedly very distraught and just could not eat. One of our church ladies brought over a mashed potato casserole and it was so warm and comforting to me. I make it at least 2 to 3 times a year now.

My favorite great aunt passed away a couple of summers ago. For awhile it was weird not to see her signature dishes on the table at holiday times. A few weeks ago I decided to try out one of her recipes for apple squares for a cooking competition.

I was so happy when I pulled them out of the oven and they looked and tasted just like they did when she used to make them.