Learning to Cook

Where and when did you learn to cook? It usually starts with your mom or your grandmother. Both of those women figured prominently in my culinary education. One of my grandmothers could not cook at all. We were much more likely to go out to dinner when visiting in Florida. But my grandmother from Indiana thought of herself as a competent cook. She was not above using frozen halibut fillets from the good fishermen at Gorton's. She would really overcook the dry frozen fillets. It was pretty awful. She did put out a pretty excellent cheese tray before dinner; one that was good enough for an eleven year old in 1971. She did make pie though. She taught me what she knew about pie dough and pie filling which was not much. She made only mealy dough not flaky. That's fine. She rolled it out and filled her pans. I especially liked the leftover dough that she rolled into little tiny cinnamon rolls. I think I liked them better than the pie. The filling was canned, usually cherry or peach. Once in a great while she would make an old-fashioned apple pie with fresh apples. Those were so good and interested me much more than the canned pie filling.  I liked peeling the apples and slicing them up. Then she tossed them with sugar with her hands. I liked the hands on aspect of this kind of cooking. When the pie was assembled, she would sprinkle cinnamon sugar on top of the pie and bake it. I loved the smell all over the house. I kept asking her, "Is it done?"

She would say, "Not yet, hush!"

I was very impatient. I wanted it right away. I did have the little pie cinnamon rolls to keep me happy in the short term. I was pretty disappointed finding out that the pie had to cool before we could cut into it. Damn!

There were other things I can remember about eating at the grandparents house in Elkhart, Indiana. My grandfather Frank required a stack of white bread be on the table for every meal. It was just the kind you might think it was; the squishy, textureless, tasteless, fluffy whitebread. We didn't have this kind at home. My mother did not approve. Even in the sixties, she tended more towards whole grain bread with crunchy elements in it. (thanks Mom!) But when in Indiana you eat the white bread. I would wrap the cubes of cheddar cheese in the white bread. It stuck together quite well; not exactly the most healthy snack. I don't know why but Frank needed the toaster on the table as well. He must have really loved toast. There's not much more I remember about the food in Elkhart.

My mother on the other hand, while not being a world class cook did try really hard to make interesting healthy food. She encouraged us to develop our palates to try different foods we might not have had before. My dad was not very adventurous and shunned new flavors and textures. I think my mom saw in my sister and myself a way to try some new food herself. I don't remember seeing the recipe or even the dish itself, but one of the most notorious dishes in our family history was the chocolate chicken. My father never let her live that one down. I don't think she was supposed to use an actual milk chocolate bar. It probably was cocoa powder or unsweetened chocolate that was called for. My dad said it was not good. But she did so much other good food. She also helped us to learn how to cook.

When I asked for chocolate chip cookies, she said, "Let's make them together!"

I thought that was so much fun. She taught me mise en place well before I went to culinary school. We got out all the ingredients and measured them out. When we were done measuring, I wanted to mix the dough. She said we had to put away all the ingredients before we could start mixing. Looking back, that was so helpful in learning to work cleanly in the kitchen. It makes it less messy and it’s easier to work with the food you are about to cook. She didn’t know it but it’s the professional way. From that time on, I was the one who made the cookies. Well, I think that’s true but she have made a batch here and there over the years. But I was on my way. I wanted to learn more.

Some Sundays my parents would take us to brunch at a hotel or restaurant after church. This was a real luxury for us. We didn’t eat out much. It’s not that we didn’t have the money. But my mother was of the mind; if we have food at home, why eat out? I’m not sure why they started doing it but I was glad they did.  I really liked the hotel brunches the best. They usually had beautiful buffets and an omelette station. That was always my first stop on the buffet. I watched the hotel chef pour already whipped eggs into a small skillet, toss in some vegetables and cheese and maybe some meat and whip up a full French omelette in just 45 seconds. I was amazed! How did he do it so quickly and without any mess at all? When I cooked at home it took a while and there was plenty of mess. I watched as he deftly lifted up one side of the cooking omelette to allow the egg mixture to flow to the other side of the pan. Gently, the cook swirled the eggs in the pan. They often would release very easily from the edges and rotate as he swirled the pan in midair. He folded it in thirds and deposited it on the waiting plate. He garnished it with some chopped herbs or green onions and handed me the plate. I looked at the plate in awe. I must have watched him make 25 omelets in a row. What I noticed was that while the eggs were cooking, he lifted up the most cooked edge and tilted the pan to let the liquid part of the eggs get underneath. This helped cook the eggs more evenly. It also made it easier to release the omelet from the pan when it was done. The cheese was just melted and the ingredients warmed. You could say the eggs were a little undercooked. The carry-over heat from the omelet itself would take the dish to full temperature. I know some people really abhor undercooked eggs. I get that but just cooked eggs are the best. I really abhor overcooked eggs. The eggs should be coagulated but not dry. But you learn that through trial and error. I had a lot of error to go with my trials. But I worked hard at learning what made a great omelet. I did egg after egg at home. My mom was right by my side coaching me to that perfect 3-fold omelet. She let me use up all the eggs sometimes. I have to say that my dad helped in all of this egg cookery as well. Someone had to eat all these omelets. He loved them. To his last day, he said my omelets were the best he had ever tasted. I think he was a little biased.

But I still watched with delight when we went to brunch at a hotel to see the omelet station cook do his magic. They inspired me just like my mom and grandmother had. I thought this is something I would like to learn more about.

I didn’t cook a lot during my twenties. I ate out a lot. But then I found some interesting recipes in magazines. I tried cooking for my roommates but I was less than successful with that. I kind of bit off more than I could chew. My friends were supportive but amused at my ambitious cooking exploits. I’ll tell you more about that another time.

I have to say I didn’t really think about professional cooking until much later when I met my wife. She and my sister encouraged me to pursue cooking as a career. But that’s another story for another time. Let’s just say, I always loved food and its preparation. I was lucky to have people in my life who nurtured me and fostered that love. If you love food, find someone in your life who believes in you and wants to help you. Then cook for them. If they truly love you, they will give you feedback. It will be the kind of feedback that is honest. Not all of your work will be perfect. In fact in the beginning it will be horrible. Work through that and know you will become better at what you work at. Look for your loved ones and friends to guide you through those early days to get to where you can cook what you want well. It will happen if you practice. Now go cook something nice for your mom or spouse.

Chefinstructortom