Oh my goodness...I could write a book about the reasons why.
I may not know the science of food, but I know the passion of food, and it started with my Mom's family in the South. A place where breakfast is breakfast, lunch is dinner and dinner is suppa'. I have dreamy recollections of sitting down, with a table of 20 and eating myself full of happiness. Forget recognizing when you're too full in my family- you're too busy laughing to stop stuffing.
I also give some of my love of cooking to the novel "Like Water For Chocolate." The idea that a person loves so much, feels so much that she dispenses her emotional state in to the food she cooks is a profound notion to me. Food tells stories. Where it comes from tells a story. Is your lemon from your backyard, or is it imported from down south? What's it remind you of when you smell it.
The memories the smell of food triggers are unrelenting to me, and to be able to harness those memories, to see the smiles of those eating my food makes me whole. Baking bread brings me back to Paris. Fish tacos to Mexico and black beans back to Costa Rica.
Food is magic, if you let it be.
Childhood memories swarm to the front of my brain when I smell chocolate baking, hot in an oven.
The crazy spice of peppers, grilling gently on the stove reminds me of my boyfriend's mastery of all things salsa and spicy.
I love to cook because it forces me to try something new. A beautiful cake is instant gratification- entirely selfish, yes, I know.
Watching a person bite in to a piece of cake, and sit back just to take it in is better than tv.
Then, of course, there's the apothecary...the use of herbs for healing purposes. Aloe heals burns. Ginger calms the stomach. Chamomile eases...lavendar induces peace...the list just goes on. Plants are our food. They are our first aid. Food is the story of family. Food is heart and soul in my book.
And I love to eat too....
timer goes off....
I may not know the science of food, but I know the passion of food, and it started with my Mom's family in the South. A place where breakfast is breakfast, lunch is dinner and dinner is suppa'. I have dreamy recollections of sitting down, with a table of 20 and eating myself full of happiness. Forget recognizing when you're too full in my family- you're too busy laughing to stop stuffing.
I also give some of my love of cooking to the novel "Like Water For Chocolate." The idea that a person loves so much, feels so much that she dispenses her emotional state in to the food she cooks is a profound notion to me. Food tells stories. Where it comes from tells a story. Is your lemon from your backyard, or is it imported from down south? What's it remind you of when you smell it.
The memories the smell of food triggers are unrelenting to me, and to be able to harness those memories, to see the smiles of those eating my food makes me whole. Baking bread brings me back to Paris. Fish tacos to Mexico and black beans back to Costa Rica.
Food is magic, if you let it be.
Childhood memories swarm to the front of my brain when I smell chocolate baking, hot in an oven.
The crazy spice of peppers, grilling gently on the stove reminds me of my boyfriend's mastery of all things salsa and spicy.
I love to cook because it forces me to try something new. A beautiful cake is instant gratification- entirely selfish, yes, I know.
Watching a person bite in to a piece of cake, and sit back just to take it in is better than tv.
Then, of course, there's the apothecary...the use of herbs for healing purposes. Aloe heals burns. Ginger calms the stomach. Chamomile eases...lavendar induces peace...the list just goes on. Plants are our food. They are our first aid. Food is the story of family. Food is heart and soul in my book.
And I love to eat too....
timer goes off....
