MOM & JULIA

Mom’s basil was shaken from the same dispenser as the oregano and other questionable ‘Italian seasonings’. It looked nothing like the stuff of which Julia Childs plucked from miniature trees atop the kitchen counter. Hmm

But undoubtedly, whatever came showering from those plastic shakers, made the food and her four children do a jig. My mother was and still is a great cook. Grocery shopping was better than Disney world for us. The anticipation alone of what would appear from the well seasoned cast iron skillet was mouth watering.

I laugh now considering that my mom could easily have been the originator of the Chopped, Top and Iron Chef Challenge. I remember combing the cabinets in despair, searching aimlessly for something to eat/ cook. Nothing! Surely this would be the day that we’d parish from starvation. Then like magic, the aromas would tip toe across span of the living room and around the corner to tickle my senses. A rumbling of approval would sound from my belly. I hadn’t noticed any grocery bags. How’d she do that?!

For years, I’d observe them both. Julia, on Saturdays after my fill of the Smurfs or Mr. Magoo and Mom, from the brown velvet covered wood base bench, with a perfect view of the stove top. Like Julia Childs, she would describe the makings of her magic, step by step. But rarely did she allow me entrance (more on why, later).

But Julia… Dear Julia Childs… Her herbs were different! Which must mean that the aromas and taste were too? What I wouldn’t give to be there beside her on a tall stool, offering my life as her personal taste tester (sigh).

I yearned to smell the aromas of her kitchen… Longed to taste the flavor of beef bourguignon and cooking cherry… I wanted a shot at real herbs and seasonings, damn it! And thus it began the nurturing of my love affair with food.

To be continued…