How does one get 'qualified' in the kitchen?

Photo: Pixabay

Learning in the kitchen can be fun for the whole family.

I read an article recently about the woman who designed the prototype for the basic modern kitchen, created for efficiency.

It was fitted with built-in cabinets and drawers that optimized storage and, for the first time, showed a continuous counter with a tiled backsplash. Minimum movement was required to complete all the duties of prep, cooking and washing up. It was a whole new concept.

The catch was, the woman was not a housewife or a mother—she didn’t even cook for herself. Margarete Schütte-Lihotzky designed her “Frankfurt kitchen” in 1926 as part of a social housing project. Her goal was to make life easier for working women. It made me think of how we consider people qualified for projects, and then it occurred to me, how do we decide we are qualified for life?

I suppose all this existential thinking came from memories of my mom as Mother’s Day approaches. She isn’t here anymore but I never cease to wonder at how she managed, a young mom at 19 years of age with me in tow. My grandma (her mom) was a great cook apparently but lost her appetite for cooking when she started to drink, so my mom didn’t get much formal guidance in the kitchen.

In the 1960s and 1970s, when I was growing up, there was lots of cooking information out there in magazines and, of course, moms shared their successes. I remember my aunt and my mom trading recipe cards and clippings of things they found that worked. My mom had what were called “beef and pea pod recipes,” ones that called for beef and pea pods but if chicken was on sale and broccoli looked better at the grocery store, then we had the converted recipe for dinner.

I didn’t feel like my life was lacking in any way as a kid. My mom stayed home until my younger brother and I both were well into elementary school, so she made oatmeal on winter mornings and made cookies for our snacks, as well as making dinner.

It wasn’t until I was an adult that I learned she was embarrassed to serve “finn and haddie” for dinner. I loved it and never thought canned haddock served with toast points and stewed tomatoes on the side was considered a dish for poor people. It must have been all the love and laughter in our house that outshone the lack of money.

I remember my mom telling us too, she was horrified to show us caterpillars and daddy long-legs spiders in the grass but felt that it was the kind of thing to do if she was to instil a sense of curiosity and wonder in her children, which she did very well. She hadn’t a clue how to be a “good” mother, she simply had faith that lots of love along with the basics of food, shelter and education would make for good children.

She and my dad had a special bond too. I’m sure that made a big difference. He didn’t know how to be a dad either—only 22 and just out of university but full of dreams with promise and full of adoration for my mom. He was not an adventurous eater in the beginning (how could he have been, there wasn’t much adventurous food in Winnipeg in the late 1960s). But that would change.

After a business trip to California in the mid 1970s, he and my mom started to make salsa and create homemade fried tacos (we had Pilsbury biscuits rolled in cornmeal as shells and ground beef with cumin and a dash of cayenne cooked in the electric frying pan.

When a purchase of frozen breaded pork cutlets on sale turned out to be a bad idea, they decided to make peach chutney to go with them as an upgrade. The bought a case of fresh peaches and mason jars. The chutney was fantastic, but I think we threw out the last few cutlets. They were like pressed sawdust.

Daddy encouraged us to cook for Mom, too. One year for Mother’s Day he cooked dinner and my brother and I made chocolate mousse. It had a few teaspoons of coffee in it, which the recipe said would add depth of taste. Mom didn’t bat an eye but just asked enthusiastically what the intriguing crunchy element was. I told her about the spoonsful of coffee grounds and she just smiled.

I guess it was my mom who taught me we qualify ourselves in the kitchen and in life when we jump in with both feet. If we are optimistic about the results and have the clear intention of having a good time, then things usually turn out pretty well.

At the very least, it makes for great stories around the dinner table.

This article is written by or on behalf of an outsourced columnist and does not necessarily reflect the views of Castanet.