Cooking was never a high priority for my mother. True, she was raised in part by my great-grandmother, an old school Italian who used to hand roll spaghetti noodles but this wasn’t enough to offset the influence of my half English, half Norwegian grandmother, an orphan (barely) raised on institutional cooking. I adored the woman (we shared a birthday and many interests) but her idea of a good meal was black coffee and a cigarette. Maybe if she was really hungry, a slice of toast and half a grapefruit. She famously said that she would prefer if her nutritional needs could be met just by taking a pill.
Everything I ate growing up was either bland or over cooked with a few notable exceptions (Chicken Paprikash, yum). Consequently, I was never really interested in food. I loved sweets but I think that was due largely to my chronically low blood sugar. During high school, I got addicted to Thai and Indian food but I still didn’t eat well at home. After I had Mitten, the low blood sugar that I used to be able to ignore got so bad it would trigger migraines. I had to eat regularly but I still didn’t really enjoy it.
I met my husband when Mitten was 2. On our first date, he made me a frittata. On subsequent dates we visited MacKinnon’s (duck breast w/ crispy skin), Ruth’s Chris (filet mignon and giant shrimp), D’Amatos (tea braised pork w/ scallops), The Whitney (Remy Martin XO and dark chocolate), Lily’s Seafood (Sander’s Hot Fudge cream puff and handmade creme soda). I never knew food could be so good! At home, Halim made everything from Korean bbq to 40 clove garlic chicken. Our Thanksgivings were epic. On our wedding day we served our guests crab seviche, Danish lobster tails, filet mignon and ahi tuna steaks with pureed celery root and lemon cake w/ cream cheese frosting.
We love food and food loves us. All this time I watched my husband cook, sometimes I helped and sometimes I would bake. Before the birth of our son, I made banana bread and snickerdoodles almost every other day. Still, I held back from making my own entrees because I thought I couldn’t cook. I was sure I’d burn the roast or make everything taste like feet.
Then something illuminating happened. I went to my mother’s for dinner. She was trying to make my husband’s 40 clove garlic chicken recipe for my sister’s birthday and things were going wrong. I got in the kitchen, took a look at the dish and realized that I knew exactly what I needed to do to fix it. I did and dinner was good.
Now I make dinner whenever I can get a free hand. My husband still loves to cook and I don’t fight him for the pleasure unless a dish has really caught my fancy. I know which spices finish a dish, when things are done by smell and I can make a perfectly tender tri-tip.
Apparently, over the last 7 or so years, my husband has taught me how to cook.
“Gourmandise is an impassioned, rational and habitual preference for all objects that flatter the sense of taste.”
Jean Antheleme Brillat-Savarin, The Physiology of Taste
Very cute — and I must say you have excellent taste in blog templates.
Mike
As do you, sir. 🙂
Sorry, I had to stop by again and give you grief for making me think of tea-braised pork and scallops all day. Seriously, it’s like a food song stuck in my head. Argh!
You’re welcome. If it’s any consolation, that was the last good meal I had at that restaurant. Quite a swan song though. 🙂
40 clove garlic chicken!?! Do tell!
It’s a recipe he adapted from the dish served at The Stinking Rose in Los Angeles. We ate there a few times when we lived in CA and I gotta say, it was never as good as Halim’s version. They use less olive oil, we tend toward Alton Brown’s recipe:
http://www.foodnetwork.com/food/recipes/recipe/0,,FOOD_9936_16200,00.html
By the time the chicken is done cooking the garlic cloves should be roasty and tender. Make sure you have a warm baguette on hand to spread the garlic on and dip in the extra olive oil.
2:40 in the morning and my friend Geraldine and I just salivated all over my computer. Mmmmmm….
2:40 in the morning – A dangerous time to read about food! 🙂