Day 14
Today in Canada we celebrate Thanksgiving, and I’ve been fortunate to enjoy a much-needed three-day break away from the camp kitchen. Being at home for a few days has been restorative in ways I didn’t realize I needed. There’s something comforting about walking through your own door, even if the house still looks like summer decided to stay a little longer. Maybe I’m getting a head start on next year’s decor plans—call it optimism or procrastination, depending on how you look at it.
Even though I love home, I don’t spend as much time here as I used to. By the end of a long day of cooking, my energy is usually spent. I return tired and find it hard to tackle the small, ordinary tasks that make a place feel lived-in. Those simple routines—putting things away, switching the seasonal decorations—get deferred until another day. Still, this short break reminded me how important it is to pause and appreciate the familiar comforts and quiet moments.
I’m heading back up to the kitchen in a few hours because a group of 85 guests arrives tomorrow. This will be the largest group I’ve cooked for so far, so there’s a lot of planning and prep to do. I’m starting with making chili—big pots, bold flavors, and enough seasoning to satisfy a crowd. Meal planning for a group that size involves thinking about timing, portion control, dietary needs, and the logistics of serving. It’s a challenge I enjoy, and it keeps me sharp.
On this Thanksgiving, I’ve been reflecting on the things I’m grateful for. It’s an old habit, but it’s become a meaningful part of my rhythm, especially during busy seasons. Here are a few things that stand out:
- Health: Physical strength has never been my strongest trait, and anyone who knows me well understands that. The fact that I can keep going—stand on my feet, lift heavy pots, and stay moving through long shifts—is something I don’t take for granted. I’m grateful for the resilience I’ve been given and for the small reminders that strength comes in many forms. For me, there’s a spiritual layer to that gratitude too: when I feel weak, I have sources of strength that carry me through.
- Joy: I prayed for joy in this job, and I’m pleased to say that many aspects of cooking for others bring me real happiness. The creativity of new menus, the satisfaction of a well-timed service, the smiles when people enjoy a meal—those moments make the hard work worth it. Finding joy in the work itself feels like a quiet miracle.
- Support: I couldn’t do this alone. There are so many helping hands—kitchen assistants, planners, friends, and family—who lighten the load. Support shows up in big ways and small: someone chopping vegetables, another person helping with cleanup, advice on menus, or assistance with logistics. The collective effort of a team makes cooking for 85 guests manageable and even enjoyable.
Before I lace up my sensible but terribly uncomfortable shoes and tie my hair up, I’ll finish a few more mental checklists. There will be ingredient lists to finalize, pots to inspect, and timelines to map out so service runs smoothly tomorrow. Cooking for large groups requires a mix of creativity, discipline, and the ability to adapt when things don’t go exactly as planned.
When I have downtime I like to write. During this break I drafted many blog posts—some in a single day—so there’s a backlog of stories and recipes waiting to be shared. Those posts are a way to preserve the small triumphs and challenges of life in the kitchen, and they often include tips and reflections on feeding crowds, keeping menus interesting, and managing energy.
Tomorrow I’ll be in the middle of what I jokingly call the “Beef Stroganoff Saga.” It’s part culinary project, part comedy of errors, and entirely my next kitchen adventure. For now, I’m thankful for rest, for the quiet of home, for the helpers who make big meals possible, and for the joy of doing work that feeds both body and spirit. Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Canadians, and to everyone else, may your next meal be made with care.