To a large extent, I think our food preferences are dictated by the foods of our childhood. That's not to say we can't learn to love foods that we never tasted until adulthood, but I think when it comes down to comfort food, we hearken back to foods that are associated with comfortable memories of our early years.
For me, there are two particular culinary memories that I recall. Both involve my grandmother, who was born in 1911 and lived through two World Wars and the Great Depression. She was, let's say, more than a little frugal. One of the first food memories that I have was a coffee can full of used grease, bacon grease mostly, that my grandmother kept. Whenever she fried anything or needed to grease a pan (except for baking, of course), she would take the can out from the storage bin under the stove and spoon out a big portion of grease. Likewise, whenever she cooked bacon or hamburgers or anything that left grease in the pan, it would be poured into the coffee can and saved for later reuse.
Secondly, my grandmother had a meat grinder. It was cast from some sort of heavy metal and was one of the first devices that I learned to disassemble and put back together again. My grandmother was, let's say, more than a little frugal. The meat grinder was a part of that frugality. When I visited her, it was my job to take the left over ham bone or chicken carcass and pull all the remaining meat off it and run it through the meat grinder. The already-cooked ground meat would be used to make ham salad or chicken salad. Nothing was wasted.
I think the can of salvaged grease comes to mind, because in her kitchen, it seemed as though breakfast really was the most important meal of the day. It was a production. There was bacon and eggs, cereal with thinly sliced bits of banana added, toast with butter, juice, coffee, and a big carton of milk on the table every morning.
My grandmother did not cook fancy gourmet meals. It was basic New England country food: fried fish, mashed potatoes, hamburgers, pot roast, roasted chicken, fried kielbasa, soups made from leftovers, and, every once in a while, scallops purchased from a roadside seafood truck up from the North Shore or down from Down East Maine. She bought meat from the butcher shop, not a grocery store.
It is these same types of foods that I turn to when I want a good meal that isn't particularly difficult to make. New England cooking is basic, common-sense cooking. You don't need an involved recipe, fancy kitchen gadgets, or expensive ingredients. You use what grows in your garden, what was raised from a neighbor's farm, or what was pulled form the sea. You use basic techniques like frying, boiling, and roasting.
I think that it's no coincidence that when we celebrate with food and family, it is these same basic foods and basic cooking techniques to which we turn. For Easter dinner, we roast a ham with traditional vegetables. On the Fourth of July, we cook hamburgers, steaks, and chicken outdoors on the barbecue. At Thanksgiving, we roast a turkey with a home-made stuffing, vegetables, and of course, cranberries from the bogs of Massachusetts or New Hampshire. At Christmas, we might have turkey or ham, again with the traditional fixings.
Whenever we gather together with the ones we love, we turn to the basics. They are basic flavors, good flavors, but tastes that don't get in the way of good conversations or distract from one another's company. These basic foods are also well suited to cooking for large groups. For me, they are associated with fond and comfortable memories all the way from the prep work in the kitchen to the final bite. They are as comfortable to cook as they are to eat. True comfort food.
On the other hand, I never tried sushi, Thai food, or curried dishes until I was in my twenties. Indeed, I never even heard of them until I was in my teens. Yet, today, they are among my favorites when I want the meal itself to be the focus of the experience.
For me, there are two particular culinary memories that I recall. Both involve my grandmother, who was born in 1911 and lived through two World Wars and the Great Depression. She was, let's say, more than a little frugal. One of the first food memories that I have was a coffee can full of used grease, bacon grease mostly, that my grandmother kept. Whenever she fried anything or needed to grease a pan (except for baking, of course), she would take the can out from the storage bin under the stove and spoon out a big portion of grease. Likewise, whenever she cooked bacon or hamburgers or anything that left grease in the pan, it would be poured into the coffee can and saved for later reuse.
Secondly, my grandmother had a meat grinder. It was cast from some sort of heavy metal and was one of the first devices that I learned to disassemble and put back together again. My grandmother was, let's say, more than a little frugal. The meat grinder was a part of that frugality. When I visited her, it was my job to take the left over ham bone or chicken carcass and pull all the remaining meat off it and run it through the meat grinder. The already-cooked ground meat would be used to make ham salad or chicken salad. Nothing was wasted.
I think the can of salvaged grease comes to mind, because in her kitchen, it seemed as though breakfast really was the most important meal of the day. It was a production. There was bacon and eggs, cereal with thinly sliced bits of banana added, toast with butter, juice, coffee, and a big carton of milk on the table every morning.
My grandmother did not cook fancy gourmet meals. It was basic New England country food: fried fish, mashed potatoes, hamburgers, pot roast, roasted chicken, fried kielbasa, soups made from leftovers, and, every once in a while, scallops purchased from a roadside seafood truck up from the North Shore or down from Down East Maine. She bought meat from the butcher shop, not a grocery store.
It is these same types of foods that I turn to when I want a good meal that isn't particularly difficult to make. New England cooking is basic, common-sense cooking. You don't need an involved recipe, fancy kitchen gadgets, or expensive ingredients. You use what grows in your garden, what was raised from a neighbor's farm, or what was pulled form the sea. You use basic techniques like frying, boiling, and roasting.
I think that it's no coincidence that when we celebrate with food and family, it is these same basic foods and basic cooking techniques to which we turn. For Easter dinner, we roast a ham with traditional vegetables. On the Fourth of July, we cook hamburgers, steaks, and chicken outdoors on the barbecue. At Thanksgiving, we roast a turkey with a home-made stuffing, vegetables, and of course, cranberries from the bogs of Massachusetts or New Hampshire. At Christmas, we might have turkey or ham, again with the traditional fixings.
Whenever we gather together with the ones we love, we turn to the basics. They are basic flavors, good flavors, but tastes that don't get in the way of good conversations or distract from one another's company. These basic foods are also well suited to cooking for large groups. For me, they are associated with fond and comfortable memories all the way from the prep work in the kitchen to the final bite. They are as comfortable to cook as they are to eat. True comfort food.
On the other hand, I never tried sushi, Thai food, or curried dishes until I was in my twenties. Indeed, I never even heard of them until I was in my teens. Yet, today, they are among my favorites when I want the meal itself to be the focus of the experience.
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