I was sitting at my desk this morning when one of my colleagues asked what my plans were for this weekend and my reply was cooking. Maybe some warm butternut squash soup with diced pears and foie gras - believe it or not that is Chris Jr's favorite soup. For entree, it's going to be a rainy weekend, so a nice chicken stew with as many fresh vegetables and mushrooms I can find. You would think that after a full week with parties, tastings, menus, planning and purchasing that the last thing I would want to do was cook. It's actually the most relaxing and peaceful time in my life. Plus I can open up a nice Oregon Pinot Noir and enjoy.
Cooking, if you read any other of my posts, was where you always found my mother, constantly. Either she was making lasagna for the fridge, making sauce, lunch, breakfast, anything really, and she never complained and she was happy. What she did complain about was my room. I would spend time sitting at the kitchen table just talking to her, making her laugh, sharing moments that define me today. I miss that Mom, I miss you. So for me in the kitchen at home I feel like I am still spending time with her and cooking is what I do.
The past two weeks was vacation. We spent ours in South Carolina on the beach - sun, waves and golf. We went with six other families and it is quality time. So after a round of golf in the morning the rest of the day revolves around the pool, a bloody mary or two, the ocean and meal periods. I am not the biggest fan of going out to eat, so I find the fish markets are the best place to shop: Grouper that you can still smell the surf on, fresh shrimp, oysters, flounder, whatever the boat bring in. I am pretty sure I shucked 400 oysters, and I might have consumed a third of that number.
We are also responsible for a big breakfast. Why are we responsible? Because I made it one year for the heck of it and now we all look forward to it. Eggs Benedict for 50; I even bring down my own bowl and whip, well actually my wife remembers to pack it. I love making hollandaise, and everyone is always amazed at how much butter goes into that sauce, although it never stops anyone from eating as much of it as possible. My wife is my sous chef and she toasts the English muffins and broils the Canadian bacon; I poach the eggs; our friends make the potatoes. It is a piece of heaven, and it creates an environment in my condo that is relaxed because it is an event. Maybe it is its own universe. It sets the pace for a miraculous day, full of nothing, other than a full belly from a great meal.
I thank God everyday that I was able to know my mother for some twenty years, and she gave me the second biggest gift after life, cooking. I will never stop cooking, it is me.