My Culinary Journey

This post idea has been rolling around my brain since last summer.  For a while I was considering if this was even something worth posting about.  Then I went to see Julie & Julia (twice while it was still in the theater because I liked it so much) and decided that, yes, it was worth my time.  I’ve been trying to write this post for several months now and just haven’t been able to really get my thoughts completely gathered about it or had much time to actually sit and work on it without being pestered to feed somebody, change somebody, or clean up somebody’s heinous mess.  Since October bits of it have been sitting neglected in my drafts folder waiting for me to break down and just finish it already.  It’s been written in snips and snatches so hopefully it makes sense and isn’t completely disconnected.

I grew up in a family that cooks.  Not only does my mom cook but my dad cooks as well.  My paternal grandparents both cooked frequently and my grandma actually ran the kitchen at the local school.  My dad often compared her to Julia Child and always told me, when cooking, my grandma could always tell if there were something missing from the dish, and she always knew just how to season things to make them that much better.  When I was seven years old she had a stroke.  Her whole right side was paralized and she became wheelchair bound.  She eventually learned to paint again (another of her loves) but never cooked.  My grandpa took over the kitchen.  It didn’t take much adjustment because he already knew his way around, he just wasn’t sharing it with my grandma anymore.  My dad doesn’t cook often but when he does it’s always good.  Growing up he frequently made poached eggs for our family for breakfast and when we go up to visit he still does.  He’s usually the one who does the grilling.  He is also the one who usually runs the fryer and every New Year’s Eve (with the obvious exception of this last one since he was so ill) he makes home-made shoestring potatoes or potato chips and really yummy steak.  His whole family enjoys cooking (coming to include my brother, Fuffy, as well as many of my cousins in addition to my aunts and uncles) and even compiled a cookbook of family favorites 15 years or so ago.  A couple of years ago they republished it and I now have a copy of my own.

My mom loves cooking and as far as I know she always has.  After school I’d sit for long periods of time watching her make dinner and other fun things.  She’s frequently trying out new recipes and doing variations of them until they turn out just the way she wants.  Not only does she cook, she also bakes.  She knows when to play with recipes and when they need to be followed exactly.  Well, usually.  There have been a few times when she’s tried to experiment with a baking recipe and it turned out all crazy but for the most part the things she makes turns out well when she follows the recipe.

My mom has a large collection of published recipe books in addition to several big binders.  The big binders are full of random recipes she’s collected over the years.  Some of these recipes were clipped from magazines or newspapers; others are from friends or family.  Most are favorites for my family while some are still waiting to be tried.  When I got married I began a similar collection and now have a couple of binders of my own.  Glittersmama recently asked me how I organize my recipes and I had to confess, I don’t really.  I don’t have them all neatly divided into appetizers, soups, breads, cookies, entrees, etc.  Instead they’re all printed or mounted on paper, stuffed into page protectors, and slung through a 3 ring binder.  I only know where certain recipes are because I’ve looked through the binders so many times.  ODD’s mom thoughtfully gave me a recipe box with a few of ODD’s favorite recipes when we got married.   I’d never used recipe cards before so I thought I’d give them a try.  It didn’t take long before I transfered the recipes to a binder because I kept losing the cards while cooking.  I’d simply pick the card up, put it someplace else, it would get buried under the things I was cooking with, and I would waste a lot of time just trying to find the dumb card.  I’m so scatter-brained I really need a big obvious book that takes up space to work from.  Once I figured that out cooking became much easier.  Not that people shouldn’t use recipe cards.  I’m sure some people use them happily.  They just don’t happen to work well for me, personally.

Anyway, with a family like mine I’ve grown up to appreciate good food.  A lot of what we do is centered around the food we eat.  Many holidays have accompanying foods.  After attending parties or events, when we get home the food is usually one of the main things we talk about.  When my parents took a cruise for their 25th wedding anniversary they really enjoyed the food.  When they came home they had our whole family over and made us a meal similar to what they had eaten on the cruise, including the linens and place-settings.  When my parents, Teeny, and Jazz went to Brazil to visit my mom’s brother (he was serving there as a mission president for our church at the time) they had some awesome food prepared by my aunt and uncle’s house-maid, Eva.  My aunt had told my mom Eva was considered locally as an artist with food and she made some delicious things for my family.  Again, when my family returned from the trip they did a little re-creation of some of the food Eva had made them.

Despite my enjoyment of food and love of cooking shows I was not much of a cook myself.  I didn’t enjoy it and felt like I was wasting my time when I spent it in the kitchen.  This was fairly well known among friends, family, and neighbors, I thought.  Yet, when I got married I received a LOT of kitchen stuff.  I mean, I had somewhere between five and ten bridal showers and didn’t see a single scrap of anything silky, satiny, or lacy from any of them.  I did, however receive bags, boxes, and stacks of kitchen stuff.  Awesome kitchen stuff, to be sure, but kitchen stuff nonetheless.  I had to buy all my own lingerie when I got married (sorry mom and dad and any other family members who may be reading, I’m sure you’re cringing right now) because almost all my bridal shower gifts were kitchen-related.  I remember thinking one day close to my wedding, “Do these people, even some of my closest friends, think I’m not going to be doing anything on my wedding night but cooking?  What on Earth are they thinking?  I don’t cook!”  In everyone’s defense, the wedding gifts I received were awesome (though some I didn’t know how cool they were until a couple of years into my marriage) and at least I didn’t have to unwrap anything blush-inducing in front of a room full of people.  I just remember thinking it was funny that for a girl who didn’t cook at. all. I sure had a lot of cooking paraphernalia.  If you were a friend who gave me something kitchen-y I mean no disrespect and really am grateful.  Thanks to these showers and thoughtful gifts from friends I’m lucky enough to have a lot of high quality kitchen equipment, utensils, serving pieces, and bakeware that I use frequently and really love.  I think the case may very well be that almost everyone who gave me kitchen gifts knows what a good cook my mom is and thought maybe I’d like to follow in her culinary footsteps someday if I wasn’t already doing so.

Anyway, despite my love of good food, my disdain for cooking persisted for many years.  Those who have read this blog from the beginning may remember my complaints about having to make dinner once in a while.  For the first few years I was married I had more of an excuse not to cook because I was working a couple of jobs and/or going to school and always had a weird schedule.  After having Peanut I settled into the more regularly scheduled life of a SAHM of an infant.  Still, I didn’t cook.  In fact, even just a few years ago, in a effort to embrace my motherhood I made a goal to make dinner for my family at least once a week and had to watch the Food Network in order to motivate myself to do it.  It was a tough goal for me.

The last couple of years, though, something in me has changed.  I’ve really come to enjoy cooking and baking.  I’m not sure of the reasons but I’ve gone from a woman who made dinner a few times a month to a woman who makes a good dinner 3-4 times a week, often more.  I love talking about food with my immediate and extended family and friends.  I don’t skip the recipe portion of magazines anymore.  I’m always looking for new recipes to try and attempt re-creating at home things I’ve enjoyed in restaurants.  I find myself longing to take culinary arts classes so I can learn new things.  I’ve come to appreciate even more the work that goes into the food I enjoy.  I love sharing recipes with others.  I love the feeling I get setting a pretty table and sitting down with my family to enjoy something I’ve made with my own two hands from a gathering of raw ingredients.  Something about it makes me feel whole and fulfilled.  I love feeling like I have something worthwhile to contribute to my family and that, for the most part, it is appreciated.  Take classes.

I feel like in this domestic endeavor I’ve come a long way and I’m happy about it.  I’m not afraid to try new things and the kitchen is not an intimidating place.  I’m not a Food Network star by any means but I’m becoming more and more confident in my cooking and baking abilities.  Yes, there are still days I don’t want to spend my time making something but more often than not I’m happy to be cooking now and that is something, even a few years ago, I never thought I’d say.