I love to cook — it’s a huge part of who I am.
My grandmother was the most amazing cook … and hardly ever used recipes. She had a magic touch and everything she made — from weekly Sunday family dinners, to bacon and eggs at 6am every morning — was ridiculously delicious.
My mother, on the other hand, also loves to cook and bake, but uses recipes often. She is a collector of recipe books and reads them as I read novels. Her trick is that she never follows a recipe completely, therefore giving each creation a unique touch. Often her experiments are successful. Sometimes not.
I use both of these styles while cooking for my family. I don’t own many recipe books though I find recipes online and enjoy trying new ones every now and again, and I do tweak them sometimes, just like Mom. Mostly I make meals as I go, adding a little of this and a touch of that — always including a dash of love (surely that was my Gram’s secret ingredient) — until I have new favorite recipes to add to my rotation.
I also love to take photos. At every gathering I’m the one behind the camera snapping candid shots of everyone, but never in any of the photos myself.
At each major holiday family meal when we were growing up, right before we were seated, my mother would pull out her camera to preserve for eternity the table set with her good china and platters of food. No one knows what happened to all these pictures. Thanksgiving 1979? She’s got it somewhere, even though it looks identical to Christmas 1980 and Easter 1973. All these decades later I find myself photographing food often enough that I am wondering just how much of this is genetic and how much is learned behavior.
Thank you for stopping by my blog.