Some back-story, if you will:
As a child, I experienced my mother and father preparing meals, or snacks, or even simply the grocery list, with a wholesome zeal. I carefully watched each step in cooking dinner, the silent decisions in selecting ingredients. And I grew up with the naivety that all homes were like this.
Where my brother and I were sometimes too familiar with azuki beans and rutabaga, other children couldn't name a bunch of collard greens. Fake maple syrup didn't exist to me. My dad and I would harvest the maple tree in our gardens, or get the real stuff at the store. Popcorn was homemade with butter (real butter), cinnamon, nuts, and cranberries; I later learned about microwave popcorn and it still gives me a pinched face to smell it. Vegetables were never a horror! Kids would express their disgust and I would relieve them of their unwanted carrots and celery, their expressions of disbelief clashing with my own.
As I grew, my palette grew. My parents appreciated that children aren't as accepting of exotic spices and textures when young, and so while they quietly demonstrated the value of curry and fish, scallions and polenta, I learned that food diversity could be nutritious, wise, and pleasurable, all at the same time!
My participation in preparing food also grew, from helping with mixing the muffin dough as a small girl, to taking on the sous-chef role as a teenager. I had frustrations, I had experiments, and I loved it.
I value my parents for instilling in me the respect for ingredients, food preparation, creation, and enjoyment of a meal. Now as a young adult, the value is greater, stronger, more conscious every day. It is more than just a meal to value thoroughly, it is the value for feeding the body and the psyche, each day, throughout the day, throughout your life. It is about being conscious of the choices made in what you use, where it comes from, how it was made, what it can provide, how you will use it. And it is about being involved in your own diet. Your own, for your body, not (by default) that of everyone else's.
So, I enjoy cooking. I am an illustrator, an artist compelled to tell Story through Imagery in a representational manner, and as a creative individual, how can I not appreciate the edible art form?
Everything on this blog is food I make for myself, my friends, my parents. It is food that I love, food that I appreciate. I tend to come up with it out of my head, like my drawings actually. But sometimes I use external inspiration, like when I use reference for the painting process. Consequently, there will also be inclusion of other cooking ideas and philosophy concerning food.
Sláinte!
(Irish Gaelic)
To Your Health!
As a child, I experienced my mother and father preparing meals, or snacks, or even simply the grocery list, with a wholesome zeal. I carefully watched each step in cooking dinner, the silent decisions in selecting ingredients. And I grew up with the naivety that all homes were like this.
Where my brother and I were sometimes too familiar with azuki beans and rutabaga, other children couldn't name a bunch of collard greens. Fake maple syrup didn't exist to me. My dad and I would harvest the maple tree in our gardens, or get the real stuff at the store. Popcorn was homemade with butter (real butter), cinnamon, nuts, and cranberries; I later learned about microwave popcorn and it still gives me a pinched face to smell it. Vegetables were never a horror! Kids would express their disgust and I would relieve them of their unwanted carrots and celery, their expressions of disbelief clashing with my own.
As I grew, my palette grew. My parents appreciated that children aren't as accepting of exotic spices and textures when young, and so while they quietly demonstrated the value of curry and fish, scallions and polenta, I learned that food diversity could be nutritious, wise, and pleasurable, all at the same time!
My participation in preparing food also grew, from helping with mixing the muffin dough as a small girl, to taking on the sous-chef role as a teenager. I had frustrations, I had experiments, and I loved it.
I value my parents for instilling in me the respect for ingredients, food preparation, creation, and enjoyment of a meal. Now as a young adult, the value is greater, stronger, more conscious every day. It is more than just a meal to value thoroughly, it is the value for feeding the body and the psyche, each day, throughout the day, throughout your life. It is about being conscious of the choices made in what you use, where it comes from, how it was made, what it can provide, how you will use it. And it is about being involved in your own diet. Your own, for your body, not (by default) that of everyone else's.
So, I enjoy cooking. I am an illustrator, an artist compelled to tell Story through Imagery in a representational manner, and as a creative individual, how can I not appreciate the edible art form?
Everything on this blog is food I make for myself, my friends, my parents. It is food that I love, food that I appreciate. I tend to come up with it out of my head, like my drawings actually. But sometimes I use external inspiration, like when I use reference for the painting process. Consequently, there will also be inclusion of other cooking ideas and philosophy concerning food.
Sláinte!
(Irish Gaelic)
To Your Health!
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