Slotted Spoon

As kids, we took for granted a wonderful thing: every night presented us with a home-cooked meal, served at the family table. Okay, maybe I shouldn't speak for all of us, but I certainly took it for granted. I remember being so excited to go to a neighbor's house for a slumber party: TV dinners were going to be served. I'd never had one before and was looking forward to what I imagined to be a very sophisticated, tasty meal. The neighbor kids and I sat in their living room, TV trays on our laps. I peeled back the foil and was utterly stunned at what was beneath. It was a brownish mass, undecipherable as food and looking nothing like the nice picture on the box. And it tasted even worse...probably like the box itself would've tasted. It was a huge letdown for me, but it was at that moment when I started to understand how good a home-cooked meal really was.

We were all employed to aid in the production of meals, whether by helping cook, setting the table or cleaning up afterwards. Besides making and consuming meals, the kitchen was the meeting room, the place for social gathering and where we all congregated by default. Throughout the years, our kitchens have been remodeled, rebuilt, re-engineered to handle the growing family...and all the extended family and friends who've joined us. The kitchen has remained the central focus of Mom & Dad's house, although it doesn't have the low-hung wall cabinets of the Walnut Creek house that gave Dad a place to conveniently toss the used wine corks (Dad acted very sneaky when he threw them up there and Mom pretended to not notice).

Mom and Dad were both accomplished cooks, both similarly self-trained by trial and error and from thorough investigation of the many recipes they'd come across. Through their hands-on training at home and at the delicatessens, they also had the ability to cook for many; they had to hone their skills cooking smaller portions as us kids began moving out. However similar their training and experiences, they both had their own very individual methods. Mom found recipes that she tried and the successful ones went into her ever-growing repertoire of meals. We all had our favorites and she had a steady rotation of meals that kept us all satisfied. Dad's method seemed much more haphazard, but was equally rewarding. He cooked in a grand manner, most always starting with a huge stock pot simmering since the early morning hours. He listened to music or sang as he cooked and although he'd dirty most of the cookware, he'd wash throughout the process, keeping a tidy, buzzing kitchen. He was a firm believer of the Julia Child method of cooking: with a glass of wine in hand. Once, while making an enormous pot of chili, he showed me his "secret." As I climbed up on a chair to look in the pot, he told me that to be a good chef, one should "always measure with a slotted spoon." And he proceeded to let a good helping of spices run through the slotted spoon he was holding, into the chili. He rarely had a recipe, but he always had a plan.

Mom can still put together our favorite dishes and they're just as great as we remember them. She's also spoiled a whole generation of grandkids who can't imagine macaroni and cheese served in anything but a casserole dish, topped with slices of cheese.

We all took a bit from the folks' cooking talents. We all have our favorite recipes and some of us have even been successful at replicating them in our own kitchens. Julie has always been a naturally talented cook and took it a step or two further: after professional chef's school she's emerged as the Cooklady.

Most of what I've learned about cooking came from both Mom and Dad. I cook many of my family's meals, so I find myself scouring books, magazines and the web for tasty new recipes that we'd all enjoy. There's also the tried-and-true concoctions that I keep on a steady rotation, adding new recipes to the mix every now and then (the latest of which is something I picked up from Jules, which Sophie aptly named "Aunt Julie's Beans"; it's the girls' current favorite). I also have a few "slotted spoon" recipes that I bring out now and then: a big simmering pot with a dash of this, a handful of that. Every time I make them they're a bit different, hopefully a bit better. I take inventory of the available ingredients, pour some wine, put on some music, and I always have a plan.

It was just last weekend that Paula told me she's known for months about my wine cork repository above the cabinets.