I grew up with a Mom who was a fabulous cook. She hosted many wonderful dinner parties and family holidays. She tackled ambitious dishes like Crepes Suzette, Navarin Printanier and fancy meals from different parts of the world. She taught us how to cook everyday meals too and let us experiment in the kitchen. A favourite cookbook of hers, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, fueled many of my early culinary adventures, some successful, others barely edible.
I was surrounded by other accomplished cooks, the old country kind who used any cup or spoon to whip up amazing dishes without a recipe. There’s tell that one of my great grandmothers’ always had a cigarette jammed in the side of her mouth, to relax her, said the doctor. When she stood at the stove, cigarette ash gently seasoned whatever she was cooking. My great-grandfather, Louis Rosenbaum had a deli in Vancouver, British Columbia and gave my Mom his recipe for corned beef.
Once I got out on my own, I didn’t cook for many years. I started after I turned 40. Everyone was surprised at first, though that’s long gone.
Thanks to all of you who have taught me along the way, supplied that special family recipe or offered suggestions. Special thanks to Jay, my ultimate taste tester.