I wasn’t much of a cook when I first set up my own kitchen. I came from a home that valued meal time; we usually ate a home-cooked dinner together. I appreciated our times together around the table, but I never had much to do with the preparation. My mother did all the cooking for us. I was busy with friends and school, so I usually just showed up and sat down to eat when dinner was ready.

When I got married, I only had three or four meals I felt confident making. I needed some inspiration. I started with my box of hand-written recipe cards that I had gathered from my mother, grandmother and friends. Next, I turned to the cookbooks I received as wedding gifts; these became my tutors for learning to cook new meals.

I enjoyed reading cookbooks, trying new things, planning out what we would eat. I started with titles like “Cooking for Two” and “Quick Meals with Fresh Foods” and as our family grew, I gravitated to “More with Less” and “Family Crock Pot Meals.” I liked homey, comfort food recipes; the traditional, wholesome dishes that were filling and economical. I loved having the family together eating.

With each addition to our family, the amount of food I made increased a little, and by the time our sixth baby was born, I was cooking for a crowd. I doubled or tripled every recipe, brought home gallons and dozens of everything, and purchased in bulk. We had a large freezer in the basement, and meat was delivered every four months in mind-boggling quantities. During the summer, I canned fruits and vegetables, pickles, jam and salsa to fill my pantry. Every week, I would make six loaves of whole-wheat bread for lunches, and often bake quadruple batches of cookies.

Planning, shopping, baking, preparing, serving and cleaning up meals–including bag lunches and snacks–was a huge job. My kids liked to help, and most nights someone else took care of the dishes. We had a busy, messy, warm and fun kitchen. We ate at a long table with benches, every space filled at most meals.

It was a tangible, measurable way to love my family. I could fill them up and they were happy and content.

After hitting peak demand sometime between 2006 and 2009, my kitchen began to slow down. Holiday meals brought the big numbers, but everyday meals started to shrink, and the table was not so crowded. I gradually started to cut back. We didn’t need two pounds of pasta or hamburger, one was enough. Recipes didn’t need to be doubled. Bulk shopping became more of a storage problem and less of a convenience.

These days, with just three of us at home, it’s a much quieter kitchen. I’m cooking smaller quantities, simpler fare, and recipes found in last-minute searches on the internet for something quick and easy. As the demand has slowed, I have started to run low on creative culinary energy. A few years ago, I subscribed to a service that sends me a menu for the week, complete with recipes and shopping list. It doesn’t take much time to print it out, pick up the ingredients and throw together good meals on the nights we are home.

Sometimes it’s back to just my husband and I again, when our last nestling has other plans. When it’s just us two, it almost doesn’t seem worth it to make a full meal, set the table and light the candles. Sometimes we even eat in front of the TV when the Warriors or the A’s are winning. I’m trying to remember the days when just the two of us was the norm. Not having to make large, affordable meals may open up new foodie adventures for us.

I’m adjusting again, but I miss being able to literally fill my kids up with love. I treasure the times they are home and my kitchen gets busy again.