Out of Necessity

Food, glorious food!
What wouldn't we give for
That extra bit more --
That's all that we live for
Why should we be fated to
Do nothing but brood
On food,
Magical food,
Wonderful food,
Marvellous food,
Fabulous food,

I have a love-hate relationship with food.  To look at me, you'd think it was more love than hate. 

That's actually the "hate" part, but that's another story for another day.

What I love about food is cooking it.

This wasn't always the case.

For the first 18 1/2 years of my life, I lived with my parents in a small rural town in SW PA.  We didn't have a lot of money so my mom made all of our meals from scratch.  Yes, there was the occasional tv dinner (in foil trays with foil you peeled back -- none of the environmentally unsafe plastic things) or can of Chef Boyardee. (I can't eat anything by Chef Boyardee now because of this.)  But, for the most part, she cooked every day.   Spaghetti was my favorite.  I was very disappointed recently when I asked her for the recipe and she confessed it was a Kraft box mix that she "doctored up".  My second favorite was her chili.  Third were these things she called "poor boys" which were hamburger patties that she added onions, spices and cheese to and fried (yes, I said fried) in a skillet in bacon grease.  (Is it any wonder I was the fattest kid in my class?) The fourth was this egg noodle dish she made with whole milk, butter and parmesan cheese -- a poor man's fettucine alfredo.

I digress.  After I moved out and went to college, all of my meals were provided by Marietta College via the Marriott Food Service.  I had three square meals every day for 4 years.  I still remember "Steak Night" on Fridays... and the pancake syrup so thick that you could stick your fork it in, let it congeal and then lift the plate off of the table.  Good times!

After college, I moved into a women's boarding house in the same college town and all of my meals came from the dining room downstairs or from whatever I could concoct using a microwave or hot pot.  I was very creative with that hot pot.   

Then, in 1996, I moved to Columbus and was truly on my own for the first time in my life.  I had an apartment with a kitchen and dining room.  I had a real stove, real oven.  A full-size fridge.

The first few months, I lived off of take out and fast food.  My bank account grew smaller as my waist size grew larger.  Then, I got a part-time job at a housewares store.  I was surrounded by all sorts of gadgets, gizmos and cookbooks.  When business was slow, I'd read the cookbooks.  Someone suggested the "food channel" at one point and I became addicted to cooking shows.

In order to be well-versed on the items I was trying to sell, I would borrow or buy them and take them home and make things.   I realized that cooking for pleasure was absolutely nothing like those horrid home ec classes I had to take when I was in high school.  The "chemistry" aspect of cooking also appealed to the geek in me.  I became obsessed with cooking.

I started collecting recipes and cookbooks.  My cupboards were filled with all sorts of pots and pans and devices.  

I have a slightly odd confession to make -- when I cook, I like to pretend I'm on a cooking show in my own home.  I'm very fastidious about my kitchen.  Abby is NOT allowed anywhere near the counters.  And, in the off chance that she does a little jig on them while I'm asleep or at work, before I do any sort of cooking, I wipe everything down with wipes.  I then do my mis-en-place --  setting up all of my little bowls of ingredients.  I tape the recipe to the counter or cupboard.  Then, I talk to my faux audience and walk them through what I'm doing.  Then, I do the overly dramatic nom-nom noises when I taste my finished product.  This gives me joy.  Sometimes, Abby will hop onto a bar stool and watch from a careful distance.   There was a time when I tinkered with going to culinary school and becoming a personal chef.  

When I lived in Columbus, I had a small group of friends at my day job whom I ate lunch with every day.  I would bring them samples of things I made.

In 2001, I joined Weight Watchers and one of the biggest keys to being successful (I lost 70 lbs in 4 months and kept it off for nearly 2 years) was being in control of all of my meals.  Breakfast, lunch and dinner.  I was always experimenting.  I would go to restaurants and try things and then come home and make low-fat, low-cal, lower-points versions of things.  I would introduce these items to my friends.  

I used to have a fairly active social life in Columbus.  I had parties on a regular basis and would feature new recipes and concoctions at my parties.  Spinach dip, chicken parmesan dip, bran-encrusted chicken tenders (that actually tasted good, despite all of the fiber), fruit dip...  I was a regular Martha Stewart wannabe.

Then, I moved to Virginia Beach and became hermit-ish.  I discovered that the desire to cook isn't as strong when you don't have anyone to cook for.  Because I have a hard time with portion control, I'm not too keen on preparing anything that has 6-8 servings, eventhough I know I can freeze the portions for later.  One of my friends teases me all the time that I'd be a damned good "June Cleaver" type wife.  Sans pearls, high heels and a dress.  Oh, wait, that sounds like I cook naked.  Noooooo....  I'm more of a fuzzy slipper, comfy clothing kind of cook.

I've been itching to cook more.  I've been slowly rebuilding the stockpile of kitchen items I gave away to charity before I moved here.  I've been reading my cookbooks again.   I've made some friends at work who seem interested in being guinea pigs.   I made a breakfast casserole Thursday night and took it in yesterday and for the most part, the response was favorable.

Still, when I win the lottery, one of the first things I'm going to do is hire someone to cook breakfast for me.  That's the one meal I just want someone else to do for me.  I'll handle the rest.