Show Me Your Rack

So as you all know, my 30th birthday is gaining like a lion on a lame gazelle (this Monday, actually). I got my first gift yesterday in the mail (from Jenn and Brian). It was, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the most thoughtful and original gifts I’ve ever gotten: a box of 21 herbs, spices, rubs and blends from Penzey’s Spices.I know that sounds like a really strange and possibly thoughtless gift, but I have to tell you that it thrilled me to absolutely no end.

For those of you who don’t know, my mother is an absolutely wonderful cook. Her cooking was (and continues to be) an extension of her love for her family. She went beyond “Say it with a Hallmark Card”, she said it with soups, stews, and sauces. She’s not afraid to try anything and given the chance will experiment, usually with fantastic results. In the 30 years that I’ve been eating her cooking, I can count on one hand the number of “bad meals” she’s served (one was a mishap involving a turkey breast, rice-a-roni and a can of black olives, and the other was a clearly accidental slip of the salt shaker over a pot of stew). Her repertoire includes Latin, Chinese, Japanese, French, German and naturally Italian; she bakes cookies, cakes, pies and has an Easter Bread that is heavenly. When I was a little tyke, I hung on her proverbial apron strings while she danced around the kitchen like a ballerina, from stove to microwave to cutting board to sink. When I was old enough (5? 6? 7?) I became her right hand man/boy. She taught me all her secrets, from how many times to dip the Christmas Pulpo in the boiling water to her classified Mashed Potato recipe. Cooking together became a real bonding experience and I looked forward to the three day Cook-a-thons we’d have prior to the bigger holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving. I’d help her make the pies, cookies and side dishes; prepping the kitchen by getting out all the ingredients and cookbooks she’d need and then washing and drying the bowls, utensils and equipment in between recipes.

This went on till college, when I no longer had days off before holidays and weekends became devoted to my part-time job at the mall (with the full time hours). To be perfectly honest, I really didn’t cook anything more complicated than an Oodles of Noodles or Knorr’s Hollandaise Sauce till I left home to live with John and Chris. Occasionally, we’d have Roommates Only Dinner and a Movie Night, where we’d take turns cooking for each other and hanging out. It was a lot of fun and I really enjoyed cooking for them (they both seemed to like my cooking as much a I enjoyed cooking for them). Then I met stephen, the real epicurean, and food became one of the central parts of our courtship. He’d cook wonderful meals for me when I’d go over to his aparment in queens and taught me to make things I’d never tried before. he had spices and cooking tools I’d never seen or used before and made even the simplest of meals seem extraordinary. he’s one of the few people (my mom included) that can cook in an almost Iron Chef situation: take these ingredients and these tools and make something wonderful. Since we’ve been living together, I’ve found I’ve learned a tremendous amount from him and my mom. Now that we live together, we take turns cooking dinner and I’ve found that though I lack their Iron Chef ability, I more than make up for it in talent (I’m not egotistical, I’ve just been told that I’m a damn good cook!). like my mama before me, there’s not a recipe I’m afraid of (except when it comes to breads…yeast can’t be trusted…).
I can’t wait to go through the box and see what recipes are on the sides of the jars! What the hell do you do with arrowroot, anyway?

"If they keep crashing stuff into the moon, the moon's gonna get pissed off, and the tides'll change, and all the women'll start PMS-ing together. Then you guys are going to fucking regret it.” ~Tori Amos