Learning to Cook
PB and I have been married for 2.5 months now. With that has come the consistency of cooking a nice dinner every night. Every other day or so I am hit with the realization that I am turning into my mom, and for that I am so proud.
(brunch at Gina’s apartment in Chicago)
Just like my mom, I sometimes dance around or sing while cooking.
Just like my mom, it makes me happy to cook for others.
Just like my mom, I am a good cook!
Just like my mom, I think cooking is the greatest way to end the day.
Just like my mom, I love to entertain.
Just like my mom, I love to create new menus.
Just like my mom.
I find myself in my kitchen cooking something and then POOF! out of nowhere comes a great memory, and the memory comes because I am repeating it that day. Reliving it. I didn’t learn to cook by taking a class or reading recipes, I learned to cook by growing up in my mom’s house. I don’t remember my mom ever specifically teaching me to do anything in that kitchen, but I learned. When I cook a dish or create a recipe, I am trying to recreate those memories. I remember a favorite dish or a favorite cooking process and try to make that dish by remembering the flavors or moments. Or I think I thought something up on my own and then halfway through cooking the memories come running back to me. Or I set the table in a special way and then remember that my mom did that too.
I am my mother’s daughter, and that’s how I cook.