food

i love food. i believe i have written about this before, but i do. i love food. not in a 'i do nothing but eat. and when i'm not eating i think about eating' kind of way. i'm not as into eating. i love tastes and smells and textures, but the act of eating, of filling my stomach is not the primary goal. i have had enough negative experiences from foods finding their way through my body that it limits my enjoyment from eating. but it has had no effect on my appreciation of food.

i love trying new things. i love being rushed with the smells. i love crumbling, cutting, peeling, and otherwise dismantling food. i love the sight of a pot of water boiling. i love the thought of bacon cooking in the morning, of crisp lettuce on a sandwich, of finishing my 'veggies' so i can have my dessert.

my mother cooked. my grandmother cooked. we cook together. every couple of years we're in the same place at the same time, and we cook. my grandmother does christmas all on her own. no one is allowed in the kitchen. you do not touch the marshmallows on the sweet potatoes. no stealing rolls before they go to the table. any other day of the year, you're allowed to cook in the kitchen, but not that day. not christmas. come to think of it, i don't think i've ever cooked with my grandmother. maybe at my mom's house, but not at her's. my grandmother's kitchen is her territory. i always felt a little daunted by the idea of cooking with someone who is obviously so good at it.

i cooked a lot with my mother, and for her. we were encouraged as children to participate in the production of meals, even if it was the assembling of a salad. it became more meaningful after my parents divorced. my brother and i would prepare meals on occasion (often to get out of doing the dishes). she never forced me to eat things i didn't want to. besides a lima bean here and there. (they're so dry...) once in a blue moon we would go out for german food - her fav, my enemy. she often tried to get us to try things she loved: chorizo, acorn squash, pea soup. to her credit they are all things i love today. besides the occasional exotic food, my mother made simple fare. spaghetti. tacos. chicken pot pie. all things i remember eating a lot of in my youth. i loved pasta, anything italian. my brother liked meat, ribs to be exact, baby back ribs to be further annoying.

we have both moved onto more exotic tastes. my brother even does his own thanksgiving and christmas. last year he made a beef roast. i had crab boil at my mom's. we survived and came out well past the other side. it's nice to have such an appreciation for food. to think that at one time my brother lived off of mcdonald's cheeseburgers and i ate ramen perpetually. i think we turned out well.