I began my love affair with food in the womb. As a baby I was known to steal sips of whatever my parents were drinking or beg for a bite of this and that. As I grew and traveled the globe, I was able to discern my tastes; I developed a liking for whatever my Daddy had on his plate. We could have the same thing, but Daddy’s food always looked better than mine! I remember one incident, where my parents and I were in the car on our way to work and school. As was the custom, my Daddy carried his lunch. That particular morning all I could smell was the scent of warm beans and cornbread and it was as if the food was taunting, even DARING me to taste. Mind you…I had just had my breakfast, but there was something about that cornbread that I just had to indulge, if even a tiny morsel. So my six year old brilliance figured that I COULD take one bite and all would be right with the world. Well that bite, became a second until finally there was nothing but crumbs left. Being an only child, my parents found it rare that on this particular day, I was not running my mouth nonstop as we journeyed to our daily destinations. With curiosity and utter confusion, they turned around only to find me mid chew, messy mouthed and embarrassed that I got caught! Yes honey, Food is that serious to me.
As I got older, I still enjoyed eating, but cooking was another thing. The crazy thing is that I grew up in a cooking family. Both my parents are fabulous cooks and I come from a line of Caribbean and African American women and men on both sides that effortlessly create mouth watering dishes! First of all, I was scared of fire! Yes, no explanation needed! Second, my mother MADE me serve as her Prep Chef for years. My only payment were the delicious meals that she created as a result of her GENIUS and my slaving, excuse me, I mean chopping, dicing, stirring, mixing, adding a bit of this and that here and following a string of orders that never ended. Our cooking sessions were at least 4 hours every weekend! I complained then but I am super grateful now, Thanks Mommy.
As I journeyed off to Spelman College followed by Harvard University, entered the “Working Maze”, continued my world travels, experienced more cuisine and continued to mature, my tastes evolved and I realized that if I was going to eat the way I enjoyed, I would have to see fire as my friend and become ONE with the knife. And so I was reborn! Everywhere I traveled I made it a point to dine and acquire cookbooks and recipes from anyone who was willing to share. I watched Food Network religiously. I visited, perused, ooohed, awwwed and shopped at all Farmers Markets in proximity. I attended cooking demonstrations and enlivened my senses with the free tasting session afterwards. I even learned and created beauty products, as the process is very much like cooking! I bought kitchen gadgets left and right (making my prepping stage heavenJ). I entertained and threw parties just so that I could COOK and serve! I even began to experience flavor and goodness just by tasting, much like a wine taster is to his/her glass. I would chew, grind, swirl around, let sit, sometimes even gargle (j/k) and then swallow.
Now the quest continues. I have seen the power in my creation. I have felt the shift in my soul. I have experienced the delight that comes with sharing my joy and passion. I have embraced my path. And I DESIRE MORE! There is nothing like the eye popping, heart stopping, moan inducing first bite into a delicacy that I create! If you don’t know what I mean, ask anyone who has ever bitten into my Dulce de Leche Cupcake!