I think my mother would be the first to admit she’s a good cook, but not necessarily a great one. She spent all her life doing the best she could in the kitchen, while juggling a pretty demanding career. I myself only began to really cook when I started working from home a decade ago. It’s a luxury when you can forego a white-knuckled commute for an extra hour in the kitchen, preparing a meal you hope your family will savor.
So my mother never really had a lot of that luxurious time in the kitchen when I was growing up. And often she’d resort to quick-and-easy, simple meals—things easily brought to a boil on the stove or heated in the microwave.
Often, we’d eat according to some new fad she’d discovered. Fondues and La Choy (not at all) Chinese from cans marked the 70s. When she discovered Latin flavors in the 80s, there was a span of time when all our meals were muy caliente. She had a heavy hand with jalepenos.
Unlike my husband, who grew up in a home with imposing structure and scheduling and order (they had certain meals, certain nights of the week—most of it pretty good, he recalls), to my mother’s credit, she always kept it interesting and wasn’t afraid to try new things.
There were a few dishes my mother made really well. Mashed potatoes, for example—not too thin, just this side of chunky. And party food! She was very good at that; she loves to entertain. In particular, I covet her cocktail meatballs and these little ice-cream cream puffs she makes with warm raspberry sauce. I’m sure both recipes came from a cookbook at some point, but I’d rather credit her with these concoctions.
And just recently, during a lovely visit with my folks, she made one heck of a meatloaf—so good and comforting and saucy that I had the leftovers for breakfast the next morning (in lieu of pastry, much to my Dad’s amusement), with just a touch of ketchup, on a tiny roll.
Thanks, Mom, for everything—even the La Choy. Happy Mother’s Day!
