I didn’t know how to cook.

My fiance picked me up from a friend’s house in St. Louis that Easter holiday and we proceeded to cook Easter dinner — our favorite, Chicken Kabuli. It was by no means a traditional Easter meal (okay, so it was an Indian dish far from your normal ham and potatoes), but it was what we loved to eat and thus we prepared it for my family.

I also didn’t know how to shop for groceries. But one of my most vivid memories of cooking with Jeremy in those days was picking out the necessary ingredients for Chicken Kabuli. One of the most vital parts of the recipe is tomatoes, and that was how I discovered Romas. Beautiful, oblong, firm fruits quite unlike their more familiar cousins, the overly-round Beefsteaks which readily spurt their innards upon contact with a sharp knife. The lovely red of the Romas, in combination with an array of spices and the final touch of heavy cream, contributes to the attractive , delicious dish of Chicken Kabuli.

Over my kitchen sink tonight I fingered the final produce from my garden, collected one week ago, before the first hard freeze of the season. As I washed away bits of rich soil and picked off green stems, I felt the Romas had somehow seen me come full circle. There’s tremendous joy in now being married to my favorite person in the world, the man who taught me how to pick out good produce from the grocery stores in St. Louis. There’s much happiness in watching little seedlings grow into productive and full plants within the confines of our modest backyard garden. And there’s a feeling of satisfaction in being able to turn the literal fruits of our labors into good food for dinner… I can’t claim to be a great cook. But at least now I know how.