In just a few short months, I will be quitting my job and becoming a stay-at-home-mom. One of my biggest challenges ahead is being able to provide a delicious meal for my husband and our growing family. After watching endless hours of Food Network and receiving copies of all of my grandmothers’ recipes, I am ready to take on that challenge. Hopefully this blog will serve as a way for me to organize recipes, post pictures and provide feedback to myself on how to improve the dish the next time I make it.
I guess I can start by explaining my history of cooking. The truth is, there isn’t one. Haha. I am by no means a little Martha Stewart or Rachael Ray. I love cooking and have even created a few of my own dishes, but I wouldn’t dare call myself a professional. So, where did my love of cooking come from? I guess you could say I started young. I grew up in a household, just me and my parents, where we seldom ever went out to eat. Most of the cooking was done by my dad while my mom was more of a baker (with few exceptions). My dad was more into the everyday types of cooking while my mom mainly cooked the more elaborate Thanksgiving dinners. My mom is more of a strict recipe follower while my dad enjoyed inventing new dishes.
Where did my dad learn to love cooking? Well, from his mother, of course. My grandmother was an excellent cook. There wasn’t a thing she could serve you that you wouldn’t absolutely love. And it wasn’t because she spent hours slaving away in the kitchen following some gourmet recipe or buying the most pricy cuts of meat. She could make you a simple sandwich with all of the ingredients you would find in your own refrigerator at home, but for some reason when she made it, it was to die for. After discussing this phenomenon in depth with my dad, we have both come to the conclusion that her food always tasted so good because it was always made with love, and lots of it.