Food and I have a strange relationship. Ofttimes I wish someone would just bring me my meals all prepared and ready to eat. Sometimes I don't even like food and often I end up eating things I shouldn't since I have type 2 diabetes.
Today one of my daughters called to get the doughnut recipe I had used many years ago. We used to have doughnut Fridays with videos on the rented VHS machine we got at the local service station. I remember the counter covered with waiting dough which was cut into doughnut shapes and then deep fried. But I have not made doughnuts for at least 3 decades now.
Years later we had pizza and root beer float video nights. Homemade pizza was a regular occurrence at our house. Every one could add their own toppings. But now it has been some time since I have made a homemade pizza.
When all 10 children were still home I became a master at stretching our budget. I could make one chicken serve 12 people. I created many casseroles usually based on mushroom soup and/or canned tomatoes. [I would bottle 10 bushels of tomatoes and they would be bottled the way I like them in quarters with no skins.] Our garden yielded bushes of green beans and I also canned them. Every summer/fall we canned what even we could find -beans, tomatoes peaches, pears, applesauce, cherries, etc usually about 500 quarts. And we froze corn, broccoli, spinach etc. We always ate our breakfasts and dinner together. One of my sons said I was "a good cooker". I loved to make soups whether from soup bones of turkey carcasses. I made homemade noodles which were so good. My mother could never figure out how I could pull together ingredients to provide a meal. But I did.
Our children grew up on homemade bread. My first effort at bread baking was actually funny. The outside looked so beautiful but when I tried to slice the bread I discovered the inside to be totally doughy. Over the years I got better at handling and kneading the bread dough. I had often made good sweet roll variations when I was in high school and I finally mastered the art of bread baking. At one point Wednesdays were set aside for baking and I would produce 20 loaves of bread, various batches of cookies and desserts much of which went into the freezer. Each of the children learned how to bake bread on their own. One son actually baked his own bread and sold sandwiches at high school to earn his own income.
Our family dynamics gradually changed with university and marriage. At one point my fridge was so full of leftovers by Fridays that Friday became leftover day. About that time I discovered that previously our boys had enjoyed a 4th meal past midnight sneaking downstairs and helping themselves so there were no leftovers. I had to adjust how much food I prepared.
Sooner than I would have thought Steve and I were back to only 2 of us for our meals. It wasn't as much fun to cook for only 2 and my recipes served so many more. We found that Sam's and Costco had lots of options that did not require much cooking. I pretty much stopped baking bread or even many cookies. I learned I had diabetes so it was not a good idea to have lots of cookies in the house because I would eat them.
I would have been happy to get by with a peanut butter sandwich but Steve still wanted a real meal so I tried.
After Steve retired we served out mission in Sydney Australia and we often were too busy for me to really cook. We got used to quick food and fast food. The only thing I really prepared were Morning Glory Muffins which I often prepared for the missionaries for meetings we had. Then on our 8 1/2 month family history trip to Wales and Europe there were few opportunities to cook and we learned to love the soups and wonderful soda bread.
We arrived home and began to settle into our new life when Steve had his first stroke. That changed everything because I could no longer cook for him when he was in the hospital and I just grabbed what ever was available. A short few weeks in our daughter's home when she tried to tempt him with various dishes. Then we were in our new one level home in Syracuse. But Steve pretty much liked mac and cheese, and other easy dishes. I ate whatever. As Steve declined food became less and less important. And then he died. And I didn't really care what I ate.
There are things that sound good but when I actually cook I don't much care for what I make. It is strange because food prep used to be such a huge factor in my life. Now it is a nuisance.
Our children have been wonderful in that they have scheduled visits with me on Sundays and they bring dinner, often leaving me an extra meal of leftovers.
I look at my old recipe box which is falling apart. It is stuffed with so many recipes that used to be a part of my life and there are many good memories there. I enjoy when some of my children ask for recipes they remember. But I think my cooking days are gone. Gone are the days when I cooked a huge Mexican food meal over Christmas, when I made dozens of pizzas for my children friends, when I made lots of good winter soups, when I had a lot of people over for Sunday dinners, when I set a pretty table and filled it with good food. I am not sure I am even a 'good cooker' anymore.
Now that I am alone I guess it is time to find a new way to cook and prepare food and set my table. Occasionally I see a recipe or think of a certain food and feel a pull to cook again. But it seems there are other interests and time consumers that pull me away; the creative writing class, my back surgery, my travel plans, and my own laziness.
Food is definitely interesting. I think I have "love-hate" relationship with it.
No comments:
Post a Comment