![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
An old friend for dinner (Hannibal)
When Clarice had been in the Academy, and college before that, and the orphanage before that, homemaking had not been a serious option. Meals were to be found at cafeterias and the occasional friend's house or restaurant. Now, she had spare time, which annoyed her deeply on some level. There was no convenient cafeteria where she could mindlessly take care of food in between classes.
Now, unless she wanted peanut butter sandwiches and cereal for every meal, she would have to cook.
At first, it annoyed her. It was time she could have spent productively elsewhere. But soon she began to find the pleasure in it. Rediscovering meals that reminded her of her childhood with a bittersweet pang. There were several attempts at making old recipes only to realize that they had been intended for a family of six, which resulted in leftover pot roast being taken to the precinct.
Shopping for the week was now less of a grudging act of necessity and more a chance to feel at home, in whatever small way possible. With that vague thought in mind, Clarice strode through the City market, intent on having shrimp and grits for dinner.
Now, unless she wanted peanut butter sandwiches and cereal for every meal, she would have to cook.
At first, it annoyed her. It was time she could have spent productively elsewhere. But soon she began to find the pleasure in it. Rediscovering meals that reminded her of her childhood with a bittersweet pang. There were several attempts at making old recipes only to realize that they had been intended for a family of six, which resulted in leftover pot roast being taken to the precinct.
Shopping for the week was now less of a grudging act of necessity and more a chance to feel at home, in whatever small way possible. With that vague thought in mind, Clarice strode through the City market, intent on having shrimp and grits for dinner.