On Loving Food...

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In honour of Valentine’s Day, my theme for my weekly-ish articles this month is “love”. And sure, food may be a small thing to love, but it’s something I love and enjoy, and you probably do too.

Winter foods are my favourite.

And I think about food a lot. Not just for eating, but the practical, “what’s my next meal?” or more realistically, “What do I have on hand when asked for a snack, a nibble, or second breakfast?” It’s also quite possible that my children are hobbits because they eat all the time. But I digress.

I think it’s a combo of the foods for sale this time of year, the warming, hearty dishes, the breads, carbs, and the range of flavours that I find alluring.

In the warmer months, I want sharp, crisp foods, plenty of different flavours and colours. But in the winter, I’m drawn to stews and one-pot meals, piles of pillowy potatoes and richer, deeper flavours that have all melded together and taste good the first day, but probably even better the second.

I haven’t always had a good relationship with food. Or even really enjoyed cooking. I’ve burnt my fair share of meals and don’t even ask about the onion gravy I attempted last week. Food in college was something I ate (sometimes) between classes, carefully monitored so I wouldn’t gain weight. My early meals when I lived on my own were sad little things. Cooking for one is hard. I ate out a lot. Or at my friends. Any leftovers came home and languished in a dimly lit fridge before they were tossed unceremoniously into the bins.

The day I bought my first cookbook though is a core memory. I walked into a kitchen store on the corner of Main Street, a gift card literally burning a hole in my pocket. My kitchen was pretty sad and filled mostly with the bare necessities from Target, TJ Maxx, and one of my still-favourite possessions: glass nesting bowls from Williams and Sonoma.

I browsed around, intrigued by garlic presses, pretty wooden spoons, and other items, but I was truly there for one thing: A Julia Child Cookbook. I remember it being expensive. One of the most expensive books I’d ever bought, outside of textbooks.

I could have spent that gift card on something more practical probably, but it wouldn’t have made the same impression on my life as that 50th anniversary Julia Child cookbook.

I’ve read it from cover to cover. Several times in fact. I didn't grow up eating French food, I’m not sure I had eating much French food up until that point, but that cookbook in my little dark kitchen made me feel like a real grow-up.

Nearly 10 years and a lot more cookbooks later and I can still testify, cookbooks are both a joy to read and a joy to use. My Julia Child cookbook is well-loved. Her beef bourguignon, coq au vin, and hollandaise sauce are firm favourites in our tiny little kitchen.

But Julia Child isn’t our only favourite cookbook. We’re firm fans of Mary Berry (her red cabbage is served every Christmas and whenever we have a big meal), Nigel Slater has some of the best recipes and his books are a joy to read, Ottolenghi for his Middle Eastern dishes, and Samin Nosrat for her easy to read and easy to implement guides on cooking.

Cooking is chaotic now. The peaceful times of cooking together with Aaron when we were newly married were such a joy. Now we have two little people who drag stools into the kitchen and plant themselves on either side of the oven.

“Do you have a job for me?” Is repeated over and over again until we supply them with a job. And they mean a REAL job, not doing dishes or sweeping the floor job. They want demand a job like cutting garlic or vegetables, stirring the pot, or really anything besides just watching us cook.

We trip over the baby and cats, apologise when we run into each other, and it’s a mad chaotic scene until we serve the food and then it’s approximately 3 minutes of peace and quiet before, “I need more water” or “I dropped my fork!”

We sigh, knowing that the mashed potato that just got smeared onto the wall will need to be scrubbed off when we remember, which will inevitably be the next day after it’s dried on overnight.

We’re working on serving ourselves (but not too much!) and saying “May I be excused?” and taking our plates to the kitchen without breaking them. We’re working on thankfulness, because being thankful for a meal doesn’t come naturally to preschoolers. Using the fork and knife together is another goal, but we’re getting there.

Then again, growth comes slowly. Even with food. I would never have cooked, or probably eaten, some of the meals we eat on a regular basis now. But I love them. And our kids love them, which when you’re a parent really matters. It’s nice to experiment in the kitchen with the foods you love for the sheer joy of eating with the ones you love.