Who Taught You to Love Food?

Who taught you to love food? That answer is not so simple for me because that person is someone I barely remember. In fact, when she did cook for me, I preferred buttered noodles over her spaghetti with “red sauce.” Now I can’t imagine anything I would rather eat in this world than her zugu.

My love of food came from my parents and aunts and uncles who have kept the memory of my grandma’s cooking alive and painstakingly tried to make her dishes come as close to her cooking as they possibly could. Which I can’t imagine was easy. It wasn’t for a lack of trying or that they didn’t get the recipes from my grandma before she passed away, but that was the thing with her. She didn’t really have recipes and didn’t really have measurements. She did everything by look and feel – the hallmark of every good cook.

From that persistence of relatives trying to match her beloved recipes, I learned a respect for not only the wonderful woman that she was but the magic of good food. Her recipes were always a treat; something that you didn’t make every day. It was, and still is, a special occasion when you make her Basta Brodo, a sort of chicken soup which you make from scratch - cooking the chicken on the bone, patiently skimming the chicken fat off the top of the stock. Her cooking methods were old school, no shortcuts. Just basic cooking which produced delicious meals.

This led me to the realization that any kind of cooking should be done this way; basic and delicious. Shortcuts cut time but also cut flavor and taste and the whole magic of what eating and cooking is supposed to be. Sure, some good recipes simply just take time and patience to make, but why not make even quick, week night meals as special?  I always try to carry a little bit of that magic into every dish I make.  It's not always about following recipes to a tee but to follow your gut, heart and taste buds. 

My grandma died when I was eight and while I didn’t get to know her for very long, what I do remember is how much she loved her family and how happy she was when we were all together. This love of family directly translated to food. Food makes people happy…what could be better than making something delicious for the people who make you happy?  I don't know if it's heredity, or if it was learned through her, but that same love of food and family is in me.  I can't think of any gift that comes more from the heart than the gift of preparing and sharing a meal with family and friends.  Thank you Grandma for the best gift; the love of family and food.