Thursday, October 27, 2005
The good bread
I don't think he's responsible for the harvest pumpkin soup, but his work speaks to my stomach in that oh-so-special way.
As the temperature drops, my fixation with food gets stronger. Eating is not a problem for me but, as my friends and family know, cooking has never been my forte. I've been, shall we say, cooking-averse for most of my life. Raw food and its preparation always bored me to death.
Not these days. I’m not clear on what's changed—maybe it’s the fact that it’s more fun to cook for and/or with someone who doesn’t count calories like Scrooge McDuck counts his gold—but lately I am having fun in the kitchen. Over the past few weeks I've made a couple of soups, some banana muffins, an apple pie and last night I baked a big loaf of banana nut bread. It's certainly not gourmet but it also didn’t kill anyone, so that’s progress.
I can't even tell you how happy this has made my mother, who spent years trying to teach her only daughter to cook and, after watching me mangle such simple dishes as macaroni & cheese, despaired that I would ever be able to feed myself, much less a spousal unit or child. Somehow my aversion to all things culinary meant that she'd failed in her duties as a mother (that’s my theory at least). The day I cook a full Thanksgiving meal is the day she'll get down on her knees and thank god for saving me from a life of spinsterhood and Trader Joe's frozen chicken nuggets. Because she equates the two in her head. She'll never admit it but I know it's true.