enduring memories of food

i don't remember which grandmother said it, but i smile fondly when i recall an older matriarch bending over me, saying, "i just like food."

at the time, it seemed both funny and controversial to admit such a thing. this wholly confident mantra seemed absolutely reasonable to me, a slightly rotund and enthusiastic eater. likely around 10 years of age, my mom's mom delighted in my habit of over-staying at the table, calling me "a good eater," never raising an eyebrow as my grandfather and i continued our feasting long after others had taken leave. it's this love of eating that likely informed my curiosity around cookery, even though that path was less straight and narrow and more roundabout and halting.

and now as i read food magazines, chef biographies, and search for new go-to recipes, i'm reminded of my own influences in cuisine growing up in the 1970's heartland. it was my mother, whose invention and determination to not raise kids who eschewed all but hamburgers or PB&J on trimmed Wonder Bread crusts, it was she who invited our tummies to imagine foods not found in the middle of the country. sure, we ate our share of green bean casseroles--and they were delicious--but we also had chile rellenos and belgian waffles, and we learned to master the art of chopsticks and egg roll folding.

while my interests were focused on eating rather than cooking, it was mom's knack for creativity in the kitchen that jump started my curiosity as a 30-something cook. and she--ever cautious about the parental push--chose the perfect time (just last year) to offer me a tome of recipes dear and old and packed with memories. it's a joy to read and explore, a treasured gift, for sure.