I’ve spent the past hour and a half on Pinterest, mostly looking at foods and recipes. I yearn for a time in the future when I will have the time and the energy (and other things) to cook and bake and create things in my kitchen.
My mother was a cook by trade. My entire life, cooking is what she did. She worked in a restaurant when I was young. She worked in the kitchen at the URI dining halls since before I can remember. She cooked for us all the time. I remember when I was little wanting to be like her, and cooking reminds me of her. I can’t say that she’s the only reason why I love spending time in the kitchen, but I think that’s a huge part of it.
Unlike my mother, I also love to bake. Growing up, my mother couldn’t bake a cake out of a box if her life depended on it. I can’t tell you how many times I had to bake my own birthday cake (and let her decorate it, of course), or my siblings birthday cakes. Let’s just say it was a lot.
I grew up in one kitchen or another (amongst other places, some rather unsavory I’ll admit). My grandmother is also a cook. She used to be a lunch lady at my high school when my mother, aunt, and uncle were going to school. I guess it feels like a family thing, but it doesn’t feel like I’m being forced into cooking. It just feels right to me. I love making soups (especially soups, and soups) the most, I think, because it allows me to be creative and traditional at the same time.
I find a lot of inspiration in the memories I have of my mother in the kitchen. It’s comforting, I guess. I’ve always found comfort in food, but preparing food is comforting as well. It feels good. It feels like I’ve accomplished something. I’m filled with pride whenever I make something delicious and right.