"Be yourself. Everyone else is taken." - Oscar Wilde
At times I struggle with authenticity when it comes to my cooking. The foods that move me, that I carry with me, revisit, share, dream about and crave are far from the plates of my earliest memory and meals. I've written about the food of my childhood before: wild game, canned soups, box dinners always enough and warm and shared. Hearty, nourishing, but not refined nor glamorous. I grew up on American Midwest food. Fish fry Fridays, prime rib Saturdays, broasted chicken Sundays.
When I realized I could put my love into form and use it to connect with people and cultures and moments in time I was hooked. Addicted. I'm sure there are some boundaries to evaluate in my relationship with food and cooking but let's leave that untouched like the curly parsley of supper club plates. For now.
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