Hello and welcome, let’s go! Where to start? Seems like such an easy question to answer, however I’ve been stumbling for an answer for over a month. Today I said to myself, “Just start.” So here it goes!
I’m a California girl through and through with an enormous passion for cooking and travel. I come from a long line of talented home cooks on both sides of the family, men and women. Our family comes together over food and wine, and as my wonderful mother has discovered from her genealogy research, travel. My relatives were on the move from the get go, so it seems it’s my duty to carry on the with the adventures. You tell me who doesn’t love culinary travel?
As far back as I remember I have loved to cook; to create and experiment, to taste and feel the ingredients, and the best part; to see the reactions from those enjoying the meal. Though my mother will attest to a period of just banging the pots and pans with a wooden spoon. Now I haven’t always been after good tasting food. Once my sister and I had a babysitter we didn’t like, we asked her if we could cook something as long as we cleaned up. “Sure,” she replies. Off to the kitchen we trot. Our creation? An awful garlic, spice, cheese biscuit and served up hot dripping with melted butter and honey and wry smile to the sitter. Needless to say she didn’t return. Another time some neighbor kids and I blended up leftovers, packed the “juice” in empty soda bottles and sold them door to door to our neighbors as health drinks. Our efforts of entrepreneurship where swiftly cut short when a customer alerted our mothers!
Tastier memories are of cooking with my maternal grandmother, Betty. She was a amazing depression era cook, never wasted a drop and could can, pickle and preserve just about anything. Her pies were legendary! Sour cherry pie using fruit from the back yard trees with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Heaven. I often spent weekends at Grandma Betty’s helping in the kitchen, going to the markets and learning the right questions to ask at the butcher shop; my grandfather, Scotty was a serious meat and potatoes man. I can’t be sure he even ate vegetables! Ravioli’s were a “exotic” to him. However it was Scotty’s family that were the “home chefs.” I fondly remember heading out with my parents and sister for an old school Sunday drive to arrive at my great grandmother, Lilian’s, for a family Sunday supper. Lilian’s son, my grandfather Scotty, would proudly sharpen the carving knife in the afternoon in anticipation of a huge roast with all the trimmings. They had owned and operated a large sugar beet farm, the house had a huge kitchen with an enormous kitchen table where they had once prepared meals for the farm hands. Luckily, the tradition continued after the farm days were gone, the lands sold to the city.In the early 1960’s Julia Child had started her cooking shows on WGBH, my great uncle, Bert and grandmother were early watchers. Grandpa Scott’s brother, Burt never married and lived with my great grandma Lilian, until his last breath. Much of Burt’s breath was spent dickering over the specifics of a recipes with my great grandmother, when together they recreated the meals they had learned from Julia. “How did Julia do it?” was commonly heard.
Over at my paternal grandparents home it was a slightly different. My grandfather had a bad heart, and way back in the 60’s was following a heart diet. No prime rib on their dinner table. Grandpa Ray and grandma Elizabeth were a bit older than Grandma and pa Scott, and had already retired and lived near the rugged Northern California coast. They enjoyed travel by car, exploring the back roads of Northern California, eating at small diners and discovering local foods in the late 60’s and 70’s, when “California cuisine,” was in it’s infancy. Once they drove to Mexico in a VW square-back; a car that would eventually become my first car in high school. New Year’s Eve was always a treat at their home. It’s the height of Dungeness crab season, when the meat is the sweetest. My family would head over to their home, where we would all pile into the square-back, drive to Bodega Bay and buy fresh steamed cracked Dungeness crab right from the crab boats, then it was time to go on a long hike along the beach or into the redwoods to build our appetites and return home. My aunt would come in the late evening with her home made beers and sassafras soda for the kids. She had a mini brewery in her tine San Francisco apartment. At the stroke of midnight it was time to dig in. Dungeness crab, perfectly ripe avocados, warm sourdough bread and home made brew!
This is just the tip of the ice berg, as you can see I was influenced from both sides of my parents. Next time around I will get into the travel a bit more…
