Jaki Jean on Culinary Nostalgia . . .

The past few days, I have found myself in culinary nostalgia.  I still have not determined why this nostalgia has dominated my thoughts as I compose a meal.

The other day, I had a meal planned with chicken accompanied by steamed yellow squash & a side of fruit for my mother Jean.  Then I remembered a dish with yellow squash that my ex-mother-in-law Willa used to make.

Willa was not a particularly inventive or creative cook.  But what she made well was spectacular.  Almost every weekend my ex & I made the journey to spend time with his parents, Willa prepared a corned beef.

As a young woman who several times refused to eat meat – once when my father cut up a deer in the back yard & another time when he sliced the ham so thick that all I saw was the resemblance to human flesh.

Never before encountering Willa had I ever eaten corned beef.  I had no desire to do so every time she cooked it.  I ate the vegetables & avoided the beef.

One Saturday visit, as Willa’s kitchen was filled with the odor of corned beef, my then father-in-law asked her why she always cooked corned beef, knowing that I did not care for it.

I no longer recall her reply.  But I am convinced that her youngest son liked it & she secretly delighted in taunting me.

Dating back to the first meal I shared in her home.  Served in the kitchen from the stove.  It was not my family scene – everything placed in dishes on the table.  I helped my plate & took my seat.

She was furious.

Aren’t  you going to prepare your fiancé’s plate?

The question was so outside my experience that I replied the only way my not quite twenty year old self knew how to reply.

He is a grown man.  He can prepare his own plate.

Willa made other dishes that still stand out.  Nothing from Thanksgivings except for the fact that she favored cakes over pies & there was always an Italian Cream Cake.

But she knew how to fry shrimp.  I still have the index card with her recipe.

And she made a really easy dish out of yellow squash, involving sautéed onions & garlic & cheddar cheese.

I made Willa’s yellow squash recipe from memory & my mother Jean loved it.

Eventually I learned to appreciate corned beef – not from Willa.  But from my friend Susan Chambless who used Joanne Anderson’s recipe.  Corned beef cooked with garlic, potatoes, onions & carrots – spiced with black, green & white peppercorns.  The cabbage place on top to steam at the last.  And horseradish served on the side.

I have repeated that recipe so many times – something I never would have tried but for the fact that I trusted the culinary talents of Susan Chambless.

Just as I trusted those talents when Susan served me fried dove breasts, held together over a jalapeño strip with a tooth pick.  Served with gravy.

Today I went through the note cards I kept in a recipe box during another incarnation & life.  I found them in a drawer, held together by a rubber band.

I threw out the ones that caused me to think what were you thinking?  

And I ran across Barb Vogt’s recipe for “Cheese Stuffed Zucchini,” written in her own print.  While I remember this recipe fondly, given to me by the wife of my then husband’s best friend, I also remembered the trips to Boerne & Comfort & Sister. 

I remembered standing up as one of Barb & Doug’s honorary god parents for their first child, Brian Douglas.

And then it struck me.

Culinary nostalgia is not only about remembering the experience of flavors.  It is about the memory & reliving sharing with friends & loved ones.  It is about stepping outside the box to try something new.  It is about bringing closure to times that still haunt you.

Tonight, Jean & I will have grilled Swai fillets & Barb Vogt’s “Cheese Stuffed Zucchini” (a recipe I altered a bit & made my own – in my hubris, I always do that) & a salad for me, fruit for Jean. 

I learned something today about culinary nostalgia.  Today I remembered the challenges my husband’s mother presented me, even as she supported me on more than one occasion to continue my education

  

Today I remembered how I learned to cook – from women & men like Susan Chambless.  From hanging around kitchens of friends & absorbing.  And always tasting.