Today we revisit our first cooking or a memorable cooking experience. Yes…well…Cooking has been somewhat creative around me.
Let’s take you back to the summer before sixth grade. My dear little sis was in first grade. Mom was working. I was in charge. Bwaahahahahaha…And being taller I controlled what we ate.
And we ate mostly cheese soup and bologna sandwiches (with Miracle Whip—‘coz I hadn’t discovered mayo yet). If we didn’t have bologna we had tuna fish sandwiches and cheese soup. I really liked cheese soup. And Miracle Whip. Just so you know it was the old style Campbell’s cheese soup. They don’t make it anymore. Oh, yes, they have cans that say “cheese soup.” But it is different. And yucky.
There was the time in seventh grade I set off the smoke alarm making pancakes. Sadly I repeated that fiasco often. It has only been within the last five years that I have been able to make pancakes. I am still capable of setting the smoke alarm off if I attempt fried chicken. My husband does fried chicken.
It was somewhere around here that my mother and sister concluded I was not a chef and relieved me from all cooking duties. So somehow I missed out on receiving Grandma’s meatball recipe and several old stand-bys. Mom and Sis deny this and finally I have gotten those recipes.
After I graduated from college and rented an apartment with a appliances I began cooking for myself. Being lousy at following directions (could that be why they didn’t bother to give me recipes?) I kind of made things up as I went along. Too this day I will cook things by taste. Adding here and there as my palette feels the need.
Last memory to share—my first impromptu party with my soon-to-be-husband and sister. A group of my friends, a friend of my husband, a friend of my (ex) brother-in-law ended up at our house one evening, no one had eaten and I instigated “stuffed quesadillas.” Again no recipe—just hauled out everything I could think of out of the fridge and made quesadillas for everyone. Then we all had a fun time dancing in the two car garage/make-shift dance floor. One friend who was there still brings this up, occasionally, more that fifteen years later. It was a good cooking memory.