I’ve been reminiscing about defining moments in my life that made me the passionate food lover I am today.
One instance happened before I can remember any new born memories. The family continually jokes that I was born hungry because I was ahem sucking away the minute I popped into the world.
Another time I managed to remember was when I was in grade school. I cannot remember the purpose, but we had to bring in food for some project, maybe it was based on your heritage or something. I made this Italian eggplant dish (pictured below).
I’m not sure what went through my head, but young Katherine made these sophisticated eggplant rolls for a class that I’m sure was no where near my level of taste. What was I thinking?
No one stopped me and no one dissuaded me. But as I look back on it now (the first time I ever reflected on this scenario) I wonder why I choose that recipe. The only reason I can think of was that it was different and I really liked it.
I have peers to this day that don’t eat veggies and are super picky eaters. I mean what made me think 10-year-olds were going to eat eggplant?
That event was certainly a red flag that my food preferences were different, developed and open-minded. I commend myself for doing it. I don’t know how much was eaten by my peers or if they even attempted to try it.
It kills me that some people don’t even try food. I cant understand it and it was one of the mantras I grew up with that made me the Amerigo Vespucci of “food”.
I’m definitely an adventurous eater because I will try anything that is edible. I’d like to thank my mom for instilling little to no fear in me when it comes to food.
Years ago, my granny (a very picky lady) recalled how she was shocked about what I would consume. She goes I was with you at some function when you were three years old and there you were gobbling down couscous.
I asked her what was wrong with couscous?
With a scrunched face and turn of head away from me she tells me how it is just disgusting.
I’m thinking it’s like round rice–how could you not like it?? Not liking rice is like not liking dessert and as I’m sure you’ve surmised by now that I was never threatened by my parents of not getting dessert if I hadn’t finish my veggies. Trying new foods has never been a problem for me and mantra two has also never been a problem. Who could ever have a problem with dessert and cake for that matter?
I love cake—chocolate on chocolate on chocolate. It is the key to my heart.
- Try it, if you don’t like it, don’t eat it.
- Dessert! Cake. Always.
- If you can read, you can cook.
As you can tell, my mom gave simple directions and made it clear that you really can do mostly anything. I can read and have tried my fair share of recipes–most turning out pretty tasty. The only time they were subpar was when I forgot I was cooking or baking.
Let’s take popcorn for example. Unfolding the bag and then popping it in the microwave is not quite cooking, although the instructions on the box say “To Cook” and then list simple instructions about which end is up.
NO! That is not cooking.
I’m talking about a little more involvement that involves a pan or two.
You want to heat up some oil, pour your kernels in the pan add a lid and wait until the popping has quieted. Then, after you master popcorn, you can move onto white rice then a soup stock. All of these recipes can be found on the containers–you don’t have to buy a cookbook…yet.
Take it step by step and soon you’ll be whipping up a full-fledged meal for the brave to try, which as I mentioned is mantra number two. You have to try it and you can call me up be your “poison tester.” I’ve been trying anything from a young age.
Anne, I took all three of those mantras to heart.
If you can read, you can cook. Popcorn counts just not in the microwave.
Try it, if you don’t like it, don’t eat it: I could be Andrew Zimmern’s sidekick—haggis, crickets, tripe, grasshopper ice cream—I’ve given it all a shot.
Dessert! Cake. Always. Because baking crazy good cakes is wizard’s work. A real dessert is a velvety, luxurious and special. It’s a work of art–a delicately delicious bomb of flavors that are hard to reproduce. Desserts are eaten on special occasions and holidays. During winter, as my family transitions from Hanukkah to Christmas we have the 12 days of desserts to keep the festivities rolling.
From gingerbread cookies on the twelfth day and a cheesecake in a spring pan, pie is not part of the sweet treat train.
Food. The comfort, adventure and camaraderie it brought to the table was central to my childhood and still is now.
Those are my reasons as to why and how I became a passionate foodie. I figure I should be prepared in the event that Kelly and Ryan ever chat us up about the amazingness of our venture on their LIVE! show.
Ciao for now,