How We Remember

I remember things by aromas such as bacon cooking, Mom’s Viennese Chocolate Pecan Torte we got for birthdays (still don’t have the recipe), cookies and stews.

Tastes, like your first cassoulet. Or beef carbonnade. I can’t even tell you except to say that whatever I tasted raised my expectations and made me want to cook. No, not in my Easy Bake oven. That was used twice and placed in the trash.

Hearing a steak cook is a memory in itself. I know how to prepare it and my husband mainly knows how to cook it, overcooked is bad.

Seeing a completed dish on a plate or plated family-style is always a treat. So is MYOP night where I teach kids to make and dress their own pizza’s starting with dough I made in advance and they make more to take home. I do remember cooking a leg of lamb, roasted potatoes and green beans for my mother’s family many years ago. I dressed the beans too early and they turned grey but that’s just a lesson in my lexicon.

I was asked at school what was the best chef’s tool and said knives but was told hands. I beg to differ. I cook with my heart. Every day. Dee


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