My next tale is one of intrigue and exploration. When I was younger, my mind and senses were
always drawn to the kitchen. The sweet,
savory, nose tingling, mouthwatering aromas my mother use to create in the
kitchen appealed to my intrigue. I began
to explore food at the ripe, wilted age of 3 years old. While I did not have the dexterity necessary
to do most things in the kitchen at that time, I can still briefly remember
fragments of me helping my mom mix cookie batter. One morning my mother came to the kitchen to
make breakfast and found me sitting on the floor, with a caught red handed
grin, and the entire contents of the cupboards evacuated. I was exploring what was kept inside those
dark vessels to try and figure out how to make eggs and bacon. From that moment on, my mother knew food
would become an integral part of my life.
I loved every smell, every taste, and every method my mother
used to create in the kitchen. I can
remember the most robust and tantalizing smells came during the holidays. My nose would flicker up like a dog’s moist
nose, wafting the air, back and forth, up and down, to pinpoint the origins of
the amazing scents: cinnamon, clove,
nutmeg, garlic, butter, caramelizing onions, crispy turkey skin, and a myriad
of other inviting smells. As soon as my
keen smell picked up the trail, my mind jumpstarted like a car engine and
within seconds I was firing on all cylinders.
All I could think of was to put my little tyke apron on, scramble to
kitchen, and ask what I could do to help.
My mother was always inviting.
She recognized that the experience of food stimulated my neurons and
never turned me away. In the early
stages I was taste tester, making sure she balanced her spices and ingredients
well. Later on, I began to make whole
dishes, and learned the basics of creation in the kitchen. The older I became, the more I explored, the
more I experimented with different ingredients.
There were times when my mother would buy me things I had no clue how to
use, but I requested them nonetheless. I
jaded my siblings with seafood as some of my early experiments ended up freak
accidents that neither tasted good nor appeased any sense except for revulsion. However, without these crucial moments, I would
not be able to create as I do now. The
tables have turned and my siblings and family gobble down what I create with
smiles from ear to ear. This would not
have been possible if my mother did not recognize my fascinations. She was the very first cheerleader in my life
who always told me to
