In my introduction to this blog, I mentioned how some of my cooking inspiration came from my mother. I think we associate the kitchen with our moms. For many, moms taught us to cook.
I can remember going “grocery shopping” in our family room and I clearly remember my Fisher-Price stove. But I can’t remember specific instances of cooking with my mother. Instead, I remember many many hours of sitting in the kitchen talking while she cooked. I know I helped, I just don’t remember specific lessons. I think I just inherited some of her knowledge.
Mom was a stay-at-home mother for the first half of my childhood, and even when she was working part time or going to school, she was usually home for dinner. Even when she was busy, she baked for Boy Scout and Girl Scout meetings and an endless number of school events. She had brownies waiting when our friends came over, and they were always welcome to stay for dinner. She sent plates of goodies in for teachers well into my high school years. Beyond even us, Mom cooked for “outsiders” as well. For a couple winters she made and sold gourmet gingerbread houses. Occasionally she catered a small event or made a few dinners to keep a neighbor’s freezer full.
For a few years it looked like I wouldn’t inherit her interest in cooking. But once the interest was there, food became something else we could bond over.
My Saturday night cooking experiments would not be possible without my mother. She is the one I call when I’m confused by a recipe or when I’m seeking inspiration about what to make. Nearly every Saturday night I get an e-mail from her asking how my food turned out and what others made.
I realize that much of my enjoyment of cooking comes from Mom. As I get older I sometimes get a little scared about how I see myself turning into my mother. But in this way, I’m glad I am.
Happy Mother’s Day Mom.
Mom and me, Mother's Day 1983
