Sometimes I forget how I truly learned how to cook. With the age of internet and all things digital, It’s easy for me to believe that I learned from watching tv cooking shows, to endlessly practicing online recipes. Then I stop and really reflect on all the women in my family who cooked and prepared meals. It’s then I remember the truth.
I’ve always sat at the feet of my great-grandmother, my grand mothers, my mother and aunts’ when they prepared meals. The meals ranged from elaborate holiday feasts, to church meals for large gatherings, quick week day meals and everything else in-between.
When I was old enough to handle a sharp kitchen cutlery, I was given responsibility in the kitchen. I was instructed to peel potatoes, carrots, apples, etc. I then moved onto cutting and chopping onions, celery, bell peppers, hard-boiled eggs, etc. Once I was old enough to know what to cut, chop, peel, boil without instruction, I was then given my own tiny cooking station in the kitchen. Of course none of this happened over night. It isn’t like a series of written tests one must pass in order to advance to the next level. Being allowed a station in the kitchen is a gradual thing that happens over time and under the watchful eyes of the elder women.
By the time I was in high school, I could make spaghetti from scratch using fresh produce, lots of spices and any type of ground meat. I was also solely responsible for making potato salad for my home and any family function because I’d passed the test of how to season it just right and knowing what did or didn’t work with this family favorite dish. There were also written recipes I’d found and tried from the plethora of old cookbooks in the house, like banana bread, thrifty pound cake and simple chocolate cake. Those became family requests as well, especially during the holidays.
Once I graduated from college and got my own apartment, I was able to cook for myself. I experimented a lot and failed a lot too. I really enjoyed cooking and trying new recipes. I’d always pick up magazines with interesting recipes to try. Of course the bulk of recipes I tried came from 2 of my granny’s cookbooks; Prudence Penny the 1948 edition and The Ebony Cookbook, the 1959 edition.
By the time I was married with children, the cooking wand was officially passed to me. I knew my time had come when my mother asked me to make the baked macaroni and cheese and peach cobbler for the annual thanksgiving dinner. If you know anything about a family of women who cook and cook well, family favorite dishes are only prepared by “experts” who know what they’re doing. I knew then, as I prepared those thanksgiving staples for our huge family gathering, that I had arrived. I became one of the women in the kitchen who actually belonged there. From that day forward, I became Aly in the Kitchen.
If you were wondering who I am? I am my great-grandmother, granny, grandma, big mama, mother, aunts and their mothers and grandmothers before them.
Aly,
In the kitchen
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