I’d take quick inventory of my several little ones in tow, force a smile, and reply, “No, not really. But I make amazing baby food!”
Conversations like this used to plague me with so much self-doubt. I’d remember the invitations I’d turned down to travel the world and pursue my master’s in culinary education at an elite cooking school. And then, for just a few seconds, I’d question all of my priorities and would feel cheated of my dreams and ambitions. Instead of filling out requisitions for food at fancy restaurants I was stretching our meager grocery funds to their limit. And while I used to bask in the compliments of restaurant patrons, here I was dodging hot dogs thrown at me by my toddler...
Relinquishing my personal ambitions was a painful and gradual process. But at some point along the way, I stopped trying to convince myself that I hadn’t wasted my culinary training or settled for less by choosing to exchange the title Chef for Mama. I stopped feeling so sorry about the career goals I had exchanged for the vocation of a full time mom and home educator.
As my children grew, I would invite them to join me in the kitchen, and they would watch with fascination and awe as I’d show them what I’d learned in Garde Manger class. Together we’d create “art” out of an ordinary salad or transform fresh fruit into a delectable bouquet. Since dining out at ethnic restaurants wasn’t an option, we would cook our way around the world with our own regional meals, exploring exotic spices and experimenting with bold techniques. It didn’t take long for us to discover that food was our “love language,” so we would invite family and friends to feast with us.
Every single day I get to dust off what I learned in Quantity Food Purchasing Class as I shop for a family of 11. I teach knife skills and FIFO and Foodservice Sanitation (no COVID-19) lurking on these counters!). I’ve shared my passion for Pastry Arts with a daughter who makes the most scrumptious scones and elegant cakes. None of my sous chefs are too little to learn to set up our mise en place, pick fresh herbs from our garden, or peel a few carrots.
One of the proudest culinary moments of my life was when my kids kicked me out of the kitchen last New Year’s Eve. “It’s our turn to cook for you,” they said. They planned their own menu, did their own shopping, donned aprons, and began buzzing around my kitchen. After hours of chopping, blanching, grilling, and baking, they presented their creations – grilled achiote shrimp, goat-cheese stuffed dates, caramelized onion and cheddar pierogies, apple and gouda crostini, roasted Brussels sprouts with garlic aioli, and a decadent layered mocha cake. My heart was full as we sat around our bursting table, relishing our feast. My culinary aspirations have been more than realized.
