I love to cook. My husband Paul loves to eat and is my biggest fan. He is always willing to help with the clean-up in exchange for a home cooked meal.
I find cooking and baking relaxing, but at the same time stimulating. Playing in my kitchen is like my therapy. I get lost in what I am doing, and put my heart in soul into everything that comes out of my kitchen. My philosophy is, if I can't make it with love, don't bother.
I am a home cook. I have been married to Paul since 1981. We met in California where I was introduced to a new way of cooking. I learned to cook with more fresh ingredients and to cook what is in season. For a short time in the late seventies, when I first moved to Santa Cruz, I lived with a family who greatly influenced not only my cooking, but my hunger (no pun intended) to explore different cuisine. I used to make frequent runs to San Francisco to purchase Asian ingredients. It was easy to get interesting peppers and fresh spices to cook Mexican food anywhere in California. I shopped food co-ops where I could buy bulk grains and flours and try my hand at baking different breads. There was an abundance of fresh and organic produce. I learned when and where to go and harvest fresh Pacific Mussels.
When we moved to Texas, where Paul and I were married, I learned about bar-b-que and some hot and spicy Tex-Mex cooking. I had my dream kitchen in our new San Antonio home, complete with a double oven and counter space that went on and on. Our first child, Matthew, was born in Texas. I was the crazy mom that didn't want to feed my baby jarred baby food. I used a Geri Grinder, which was basically a baby-sized food mill, and would cook and grind him fresh fruit, vegetables and meat. Hmm... maybe that's why he loves my cooking. After a short stint in San Antonio, we moved our family back to my native state, New York.
New York was going to be our "transition" home. We planned on staying for 5 years. Then, my daughter Melissa was born, and 26 years later, we are still here. My kitchen is small, but adequate (as long as no one tries to cook with me). I am proud of the fact that for the most part, our family ate dinner together most nights while the kids were growing up. There was no tv, someone would set the table, nothing came out of a can, and we sat, laughed, argued, and talked about us. Dinner brought us together.
Today it's just me and Paul. I miss the hectic rush to get dinner on the table after the baseball game, or before the play practice, but it gives me a lot more freedom as well. I no longer have to cater to anyone's likes or dislikes. Paul will eat anything enjoys everything that I am willing to make. I have a full-time job outside of the home and do all things every other woman in America does, so some nights we will eat at 6:00 and some nights we might not eat until 8:00.
Not everything I attempt to cook is gold. I've had some major disasters in my culinary adventures. My kids will never let me live down the muffins that I accidentally broiled or the cheese cake that leaked out of the spring form pan and burnt to the bottom of the oven. The house filled with smoke just as my in-laws were arriving for a visit. I'm happy to say however, the successes far outweigh the disasters. I'd love to hear what you have to say about my posts. I welcome your comments and suggestions.
I want to write about things that I've been cooking forever and along with some new adventures. Sometimes I wish I had gone to culinary school. I guess I've missed the boat. If everyone has a "life's calling", cooking was mine, only I didn't hear it right away or the sound was muffled by everything else in my life. I think that is why I decided to blog. I'm not just preparing another meal for my family, I'm sharing a little bit of myself. Isn't that what good cooks do?
