By Angelica Recierdo, inside columnist

There was an orchestra in my kitchen the other night. To the fury of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5, I sliced and diced onions like I had something against them. Minced prosciutto and ground beef sizzled over flames, my cheeks flushed and my belly growled in anticipation of the reward. Outside, unforgiving wind chills made their way into insulated coats. Inside, the oven and radiator were the most trusted companions. I splashed dry red wine into the pan and it hissed as it bathed the meat. Tomato paste dribbled out of a glass jar, painting the sauce a vibrant red. These are the sights and sounds treasured most to a cook. But the most rewarding? An empty plate with the fork clanging down on it from blissful satiation.

I enjoy meals at restaurants with cardstock menus, unlimited bread and white tablecloths. I like dressing up and the service that makes a meal into an event. But there’s something about cooking for yourself that makes the satisfaction of a hot plate of creation incomparable. All day we keep our hands neat and clean, but then to go home and knead dough or bread chicken reminds us to not be afraid to get our shirts dirty and experiment a little. A pinch of this and a dash of that really whip our senses into shape. I like the unpredictability and versatility of ingredients. Substituting one ingredient for another and rejoicing if it comes out decent ly– that’s art. My cutting board and every little vegetable and spice on it is a slab of marble for my knife to sculpt. Making food is a slow and messy process, like all the best things in life.

The activities before and after cooking are pastimes of their own as well. Buying the right ingredients at the store is imagining a recipe taking shape as you wheel your cart through a maze of aisles. Negotiating with deli clerks for the juiciest meat or biggest piece of fish always ends in a feeling of pride when you’re taking home the best piece they have. We are all consumers in the shopping sense and the preying sense – using laser-focused eyes to spot the ripest fruit and freshest bread to stow away. Later on, trying to repurpose that vague and random ingredient into another recipe is a skill reserved for only the deftly creative and ingenious. And setting a table – a dreaded childhood chore – is a career for some designers. I now do it with a newfound appreciation for the guests who will be offering their company and conversation for an evening of my food and drink.

As a child, I had many evenings either by myself or with my siblings where we microwaved chicken nuggets or macaroni and cheese and called it dinner while our eyes stayed affixed to whatever Nickelodeon show happened to be on while our parents worked late. I’ve served meals to the homeless here in Boston, witnessing the most nutrition enter their bodies in the form of a tomato slice or the frozen vegetables added to their soup of sodium. I’ve learned that, for some, food is just a matter of temporary nourishment. Kids want to play and will eat junk without the guidance or oversight of a concerned adult. The homeless have to stay on the move to secure a bed in a shelter or in an alley. In the end, food is a staple and necessity for sustenance. Patients in the hospital receiving total parenteral nutrition receive liquefied nutrients through a tube placed in their stomach. After caring for a patient who couldn’t remember the last time they had eaten real food, I vowed to make my food with love and appreciation as often as I could.

With the busiest cooking days approaching this holiday season, there’s a lot to be thankful for. Every year I try to remind myself to eat everything and waste nothing. My father always reinforced empty plates before scurrying off after dinner. I remind myself to donate to one of the many drives out in the community, even if it’s just one item. And I try to really look up at the faces of the people I’m eating with, really try to see their eyes crinkle and mouths speak. Because the hard work and art of the kitchen would mean nothing if it didn’t translate to conversation or interaction. Food is the backdrop, and our guests, friends and community are the centerpiece.

-Angelica Recierdo can be reached at [email protected].