Whoever said, “You can’t go home,” should have added, “To cook.” Don’t get me wrong, my parents are thrilled to have me come down for my weekly visit, but when it comes to rolling out the welcome mat into the kitchen…well that is a whole different story.
For most of my adult life, I have made my living in upscale professional kitchens as a cook or pastry chef, and, as luck would have it, I happened to pick up a trick or two about REALLY GOOD FOOD. So being the thoughtful daughter that I am, isn’t it only natural that I would want to share my gourmet culinary expertise with those who gave me life, my parents, by making them dinner?
No, not quite.
Let me explain one thing. My father used to be a cook a long time ago, while my mother grew up in the restaurant business and never really liked to cook. Dinner to her is simply something to get over with. It must have been a complete shock to my folks when, at a very young age, I announced that I wanted to be a cook when I grew up. It must have been even more astounding that I taught others how to cook. So, it should come as no surprise that I enjoy spending hours, even days, preparing a meal. As a matter of fact, I will even travel miles away from the large grocery store to small specialty shops for gourmet ingredients, most of which my parents are totally unfamiliar.
Clearly, I must have been switched at birth.
