Cooking With Love

Gimme Some Of That Old Time Homecooking...

When I was a little girl, my grandmother always liked for family members to sit around the table in the kitchen as she prepared meals as long as we didn't get in the way. She was my mother's mother and the only real grandparent that I ever knew, because the others were either dead before I was born or died shortly thereafter. So, for the most part she had all of her grandkids to herself for most holidays and other special days. At the time, my family was living 5 hours away in Virgina, but my parents made sure to make several trips to North Carolina so that we kids could see our loving grandmother, aunts, uncles, cousins, and other kin folks.

When we visited, Grandma "H" always did her very best to make us happy. And cooking for us brought her joy. At least, that's what she said. She always told me that when I grew up that I should always cook with love (for my family) to make the food come out right. From her cooking, we could tell that she loved us a whole lot. To this day, I've never ever tasted another pound cake similar to or better than hers. Her cakes and pies were moist, delicious, and made from scratch. She even made her own jellies and jams; and she canned her own vegetables and fruits grown in her own backyard. I tell you that she worked magic in her kitchen. Her home was the epitome of true southern hospitality. Gosh, I miss that woman. It's been 10 years since she went home to be with my grandfather and the Lord. Grandma this entry is dedicated to you.

When I was younger (in my 20's), I tried to be everything that I promised my grandmother that I would be. I've delivered for the most part on my promises, but life and the times changed on me. When I was a little kid, I also use to watch my mom, dad, aunts, and uncles cook. And I can definitely profess that both sides of my family have some slamming cooks and chefs. A late uncle of mine use to work as a cook in the Navy back in World War II. So it was no surprise that he'd put a hurting on the meats and shishkababs for our cookouts. Late Aunt Glo was just a good all around cook who dreamed of owning a restaurant. She was very serious about every dish turning out perfectly. I can still remember seeing her sitting in front of the kitchen sink with her glasses perched on the end of her nose as she skillfully cleaned and cut collard greens with a surgeon's touch. And I'll never forget her seafood, especially the crabs cooked in some kind of beer juice or sauce. But she fell into bad health and died before she could realize her dream. My Aunt J still cooks today. She's a good all around cook too, but now that she's older she'll only cook on special occassions. My mom cracks me up. She says that she didn't learn how to cook until she got married and had us kids. Her generation is probably the last of the all around cooks. Her specialty is banana pudding and sweet potato pie and cornbread dressing and candied yams and potato salad and a whole lot of everything else. And she even taught my dad how to cook.

Can I Cook?

Can I cook? Do you really want to know? Really?

....* Drumroll Please *....

Yes, indeed! I know how to cook, because I was required to learn. I first have to admit that when this new requirement (as part of my house chores) came about for me in high school, I use to cook with hate, which doesn't make food taste right. However, I only achieved at baking cakes and pies. Remember, my grandmother had instructed me to cook with love. I only cooked with hate, because at the time (in high school), I was trying to talk to friends or some boy on the phone. And I was only concerned with the next football game, what I was going to wear, which friends were going, and how I was going to get a ride to and from there. I wasn't studying no cooking back then....

However, when I got grown and moved out on my own, I began to tinker in the kitchen, because I was missing home and homecooking. Try eating a month's worth of microwave meals. *blah* I only did this while I lived at my brother's and sister's-in-law home temporarily until my apartment was ready. Afterwards, a cook was born. I set out to purchase a full set of pots, pans, utensils, and a full line of the necessary spices and extracts. And a little later, I bought my beloved KitchenAid mixer and any other kitchen appliance. I began to test dishes and meals made from scratch. But for the most part, I keep my cooking skills a secret. Why, you ask?

Why? Okay, I'll tell you why. I keep my cooking under wraps, because folks will eat you out of house and home if they find out you can cook. A few years ago when I was taking a grad marketing class, a brotha classmate and I use to study together. He was a cool guy. So one evening he came to my place so that we could put the finishing touches on a group project. He came over as my sweet potato pie was baking in the oven. Immediately when he hit the door, he said that he smelled a pie. Periodically and repeatedly, he would ask me if the pie was finished baking and could he have a slice. And I told him that I was testing a recipe with a few touches of my own. I promised to give him a slice to take home when it was finished. But in an attempt to make this story shorter, I'll just say when he left, why did he cut a sliver of a slice of pie and give it to me, and then walk to his car with 99% of the pie. Now I know that I didn't boil those sweet potatoes, destring the mixture, and spice it up for baking only for him to take just about all of it away. But he did. He took the pie away anyway. From then on out, he must have thought that I was a restaurant, because he started "trying to place orders for meals and dishes", which I skillfully ignored. I ain't cooking no wild turkeys and carrying on after a hard day's work in the office and a rough commute home. Good grief! I'd only actually do this if I had kids and a husband, but I don't. Shuxxxxx. The straw that broke the camel's back was when he called me on Easter and tried his best to convince me to cook an Easter dinner for him. I was tired and worn out that day and was planning to drive over to a restaurant for my meal. But no, he went on and on, about how ashamed I should be (as a woman rasied in the south) for not cooking for him. I yawned. *yawn* And then I told him that maybe I would cook another day.

Maybe I'll start cooking more regularly again. I really don't mind cooking and cooking with love, but it better be for the right one. *wink*

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Song of the Day:

"Love Overboard" by Gladys Knight and The Pips