food . . . memories . . . love

I grew up in a home where many meals were quick and makeshift. Holidays on the other hand were a different story. When Thanksgiving or Christmas or New Year's took place somehow our kitchen was transformed into a magical workplace. Homemade goodies abounded. This is where I learned to love cooking and baking. They say you always want what you can't have. I suppose that's true in more than material possessions. When holidays came along the men were usually outside talking about sports, the kids were playing outdoors, and the women were in the kitchen laughing and cooking up a storm. As a child I usually wanted to be in the kitchen observing rather than playing. It was a glorious day for me when I was finally allowed to help. You see we weren't allowed to help in the kitchen until the women felt they could trust us to do things the way they would. So in saying that, I desired to cook before I was ever allowed to. I wanted what I couldn't have. :-) I remember baking on my own even as a small girl. The cookbook was a good 'friend' of mine. Proud was the day when my sisters praised me and said that I made the best peanut butter cookies in the family. The best part is the fact that I didn't really care much for peanut butter even then, but I made them because everyone else enjoyed them so much. There's something joyful about seeing a smile spread across someone's face who's just tasted a meal you've prepared or goodies you've baked. I LOVE to cook! Even here in Nairobi I find myself having people over just so I can prepare a meal for them. There are a few guys here that I try to cook for at least once every other week. I do it simply because I know it is well appreciated by them. They live off sandwiches and most recently pancakes and beef fried rice. I couldn't imagine eating those same things over and over. Variety is the spice of life! I enjoy cooking for my housemate. She's convinced I can't make a poor meal. I believe that cooking reflects the chef. When I make a meal I don't usually throw it together quickly without thought. I think about what I'd like to pair together. Then I determine what spices would bring out the best flavors in each item. I may even spend hours upon hours on the internet looking for the exact recipe I believe would be delicious for the item of choice. Then I typically will add my own touch to it after I begin to cook it. All this to say I miss my mom something terrible. I can imagine her calling me and my sister in from playing with hot bowls of custard awaiting us. Or her ever gently dipping cherries wrapped in coating in chocolate for her homemade cherry cordials. Some of the best memories I have of her revolve around the kitchen or good food. Perhaps I enjoy cooking so much because it causes me to feel like I still have a piece of her with me. Alright, I'm going to dry my eyes and get back to preparing dinner. I promise I'm not typically sappy people, but today is just one of those days I guess.