Anyone who has known me longer than 5 minutes or has been to my house knows that I love to cook. It’s my passion, my hobby, my obsession, my stress-reliever, my pleasure, and my creativity all rolled into one. Lately, I’ve been working on developing a Hot-Popper Dip recipe that I’ll share once I tweak it a bit more. I made some last night and it was so very good but also so very spicy! We’re currently overloaded with hot peppers – more than I can keep up with actually, so I’m trying to find creative ways to use them.
Because both Sam and I love to cook most of the milestones and memories in our house revolve around or were generated because of food. We plan our vacations around places to eat or certain styles of cuisine. We experience the cultures of foreign countries not through their tourist traps and fancy resorts but through the everyday foods the locals eat. We talk about food, read about food, collect cookbooks and cookware, and we EAT.
Some of the funniest memories of my first years of marriage revolve around my feeble and disasterous attempts at cooking. My favorite recollection has to do with the first really dreadful meal I fixed for Sam in our first year of marriage when I still didn’t understand that at least something on the table needed to be edible. We laugh about it now, but at the time I didn’t find it funny at all. I believe that meal ended very badly – at least for the food!
Besides enjoying cooking, I also view it as an expression of my love for people. I want to cook for friends and family. I love to plan big parties – the more the merrier. I’m one of these strange people who wishes everyone would just come to my house for the holidays and let me cook and bake until my heart’s content. I enjoy making fresh sweets and pastries for my neighbors. And I love sending goodie bags and care packages to our family and friends.
When I cook I cook BIG, and I also serve BIG. I’m like the classic Italian momma who’s always standing over a steaming pot of homemade pasta or sauce, or the German Oma who has an unending supply of cookies and goodies in her cupboards. I do not ever want to be accused of being stingy or skimpy in my offerings or portions. Nothing uurrks me more than to go to dinner and only get to eat two bites of something really delicious because there isn’t enough to go around for everyone. I want people to feel like they can take as much as they’d like to, and when they leave I hope they feel a small measure of how much I love them.
So what’s your favorite thing to do and why?