Saturday, August 23, 2008

How my love for food began

I guess I should explain why food is so comforting to me. Why I can find solace in mixing up a batch of cookies, or making a recipe that my mom has passed down from our childhood.

Well, I've always been a mommy and daddy's girl. While most kids dreaded hanging out with their parents, I enjoyed it. I felt safe. No one was judging me, my parents love me for who I am. My Mom was and still is a Stay at home wife. So I grew up with her in the kitchen, making our meals and any special treats we might like. I remember pulling a chair up, to the counter and watching her make batch after batch of cookies, cakes, homemade bread, etc. I just loved to watch her throw ingredients together and out came heaven on earth. That is one of the things I miss most about my mother, watching her bake, chatting about our lives and being friends.

Once I was old enough to use the oven, I started baking. I remember trying to surprise my parents with a cake, on one of their anniversaries. I didn't know you had to let the cake cool, before removing it from the pan, so it pretty much all crumbled. I tried to piece it back together with frosting, but it still looked pretty bad. I was so disappointed, but my parents were so happy that I had made them a cake. They didn't care if the frosting was full of crumbs and that it looked more like a mountain, than a cake. We enjoyed it anyway. So I kept at it and eventually started helping my mom, while she would make dinner. She was my teacher, and I have to say a damn good one at that.

Now a days I bake when I need to decompress. Following a recipe helps me forget about my worries. When I bite into a warm cookie, or a moist piece of cake, it brings me back to my childhood, standing at the kitchen counter, watching Mom make he creations. I feel safe, worry free, if only for that moment, all is right with the world.

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