Like Pavlov’s dog, I think of my grandmother whenever I’m cooking.
I inherited my love of cooking from my grandmother. Some of my earliest memories involve helping her in the kitchen. She kept my little hands busy fetching ingredients from the pantry, rolling meatballs, or “tasting” the pasta to make sure it was al dente.
I’m pretty sure I was the only five year old who knew what al dente meant!
Food was how she expressed creativity and love. It was how she passed along wisdom to three of her grandchildren. Involving us in the process had the added benefit of keeping her abreast of what was happening in our lives.
What else are you supposed to do while you’re making pizzelles, but talk about school and friends?
Even as I’m cooking today, I can hear her voice, “Clean as you go.” She would insist that while I was waiting for the meat to brown or the water to boil, I could be cleaning the cutting board, the mixing bowl or the work surface.
Onions, wine & stock, tomato, flour, paprika & cayenne, tomato paste, fresh thyme, bay leaves, garlic, brown sugar & salt all wait their turn for “Onion Braised Brisket”
If it’s Sunday, I’m cooking. If I’m cooking, I’m thinking of my grandmother. 🙂