Rosemary is for Remembrance

I love cooking with Rosemary. The sparse stalk with its long-fingered leaves scents a Witch’s kitchen beautifully on a bright – but cold – February afternoon. You see, today I found myself reminiscing about the Sunday afternoon dinners that my mother used to make during winter, complete with pot roast and potatoes.

I needed to feel grounded, to return to my roots. So a quick trip to the market produced potatoes, onions, and carrots (veggies that grow underground = help one stay grounded) and upon returning home, into the kitchen crock pot they went. A chuck roast followed, along with fresh Rosemary.

As the day traveled from a sunny morning, to a bright but shockingly cold afternoon before diving into a starry evening, I inhaled the warm smells of a roast cooking merrily in my kitchen. All day I clearly remembered many an afternoon spent in my mother’s kitchen, her presence and energy alive in the ritual of preparing a meal that she had served up to our family on hundreds of Sundays before.

Rosemary is for remembrance, says Hamlet’s Ophelia, and while I have no plans to meet her end, I will call upon this herb should I find myself wanting to summon fond memories from younger days. As Nicholas Culpeper notes in The English physitian, when speaking of Rosemary: “It helpeth a weak Memory, and quickneth the Senses.” Indeed it does and when I yearn for a return to my childhood, to remember the warm kitchen of my mother, Rosemary is sure to lead me there.

The Ritual of Cooking Together

You don’t have to don robes and dance in a circle with your significant other to experience the magick of a loving ritual. You do not have to check whether the Moon is waxing or if She is talking to Venus in order to have a tender hour in the kitchen preparing food for dinner. You don’t have to go out of your way, or engage in activities that don’t mesh well with your busy schedule in order to call Aphrodite to bless your union. Kitchen witchery makes it easy to turn a mundane activity into something magickal.

Tonight Jack and I worked side by side in our kitchen, unplanned, but contentedly. While I whipped up dinner (a salad and spinach ravioli with vodka-enhanced tomato sauce), he sliced, diced, and simmered a beef barley soup. (The soup will serve as several wonderful lunches over the next few days.) Our conversation weaved itself into the aroma of sautéing beef and Rosemary, and danced alongside the roil of the water’s boil before I added the handmade ravioli. (Alas, my dear reader, I did not make the ravioli. We are fortunate to have a little shoppe that specializes in handmade ravioli and sauce – the best I have ever known. A good Witch knows when to use the better handiwork of another!)

The magick we created stemmed from the energy of our actions, our intentions, our friendly words, our attentions, and our desires (for food and for each other's happiness and success). This magick grew in our kitchen and empowered our food. We served up helpings of happiness and satisfaction as we shared our observations of the day. Upon completion of our meal, we agreed that dinner was wonderful and the scent of the beef barley soup is still filling our home with strong positive energy. We will experience that magick this week during lunch, whether it’s in on a campus several miles away (Jack), or in a cozy home office as one glues herself to her laptop for the afternoon (that would be me).

As I have said many times, kitchen witchery is natural, and so is the love that stretches between two committed individuals cooking together as the January evening settles across the hearth. Consider taking some time with your loved one. Experience the magick of making a meal together.