Seasoned with love

Do your little bit of good where you are; it’s those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.” –Archbishop Desmond Tutu

The holidays are almost over, and I am glad. While I thoroughly enjoyed Thanksgiving, Christmas and the weeks in between, I’ve helped myself to way more goodies than are good for me – the chocolate, pecan, real butter, bacon and gravy kind of goodies – partly because there have been treats galore on the kitchen table at the library, and partly because I love to cook and love, love, LOVE to bake, especially at this time of year.

Though I shared a sumptuous Thanksgiving dinner with friend Kay and her family, I just had to prepare my own feast a few days later. I seriously enjoy leftovers, lots of leftovers, and that required a meal all for me – a small turkey, garlic mashed potatoes, pan-dripping gravy and green beans in a vinegar-bacon sauce that curled my toes – oh, yum!

I was also in the mood to bake Christmas cookies this year – six varieties to be given as gifts to the 12 members of my library family. I had an ideally-timed three-day weekend to relax and revel in the Zen of baking – quietly sifting, stirring, and of course, sampling, my old favorites - concoctions of real butter, toasted pecans, bittersweet chocolate, Mexican vanilla (thank you, Kay!) and fresh, fragrant cinnamon that filled the house with the scents of holiday seasons past. I had forgotten how good homemade cookies taste, warm from the oven and made to be shared.

My assignment for Christmas dinner with friend Cathy and her family was…green. “I have nothing green on the menu,” she said. “Bring something green.” I’m sure I could have found some healthy low-cal recipes in my stash, but healthy and low-cal had been my mantra the past six months. For Christmas dinner only decadent would do – spinach with cream cheese, artichokes, water chestnuts and real butter; and green beans with fresh mushrooms in a bacon/cream sauce. With Cathy’s brown sugar and pecan topped sweet potatoes, I could have almost been satisfied eating nothing but veggies.

Obviously I like good food – okay, I LOVE good food! But the real joy for me is in the fixing and mixing, the sampling of new tastes and textures, the tweaking of old favorites, and most of all, best of all, the sharing of sweet and savory delights with friends and family.

Unless you count the hours I spent at the table doing homework, I didn’t spend much time in the kitchen as a girl. My mother was a good cook, and she baked the most amazing cakes, pies and cookies, but she was a perfectionist, and she liked to work alone. She didn’t teach me how to cook, per se, but tucked out of her way, doing my homework, I picked up enough to throw together a decent meal or two (or ten) as a newlywed.

My former mother-in-law was the one who taught me the real joy of cooking. The woman would have eaten her young if it had been allowed by law, but I have to hand it to her – she knew how to turn the simplest ingredients into five-star-restaurant worthy meals.

Lucky for me, she was proud enough and confident enough of her expertise to share with me. She taught me everything I’d never learned about garlic cloves, peppers and squash, fresh fish, shrimp and crawfish, hot Italian sausage, ham bones and turkey carcasses. She introduced me to cumin and coriander, tarragon, cayenne pepper and curry powder. Hanging out in her messy kitchen, I learned the basics of chicken and sausage gumbo, oyster dressing, crawfish bisque, barbecued shrimp, stuffed artichokes and olive salad.

She never used a recipe, and so, on my own at home, I had to experiment – a large spoon of this, a small scoop of that, a dash of salt, a spritz of lemon juice, more pepper, and taste, taste, taste. Little by little, cooking became less of a chore and more a creative endeavor. Family and friends began to compliment me on my cooking, and that made me want to try my hand at new, more challenging and potentially better recipes.

Over the years, preparing food for those I love – with love – became my way of giving – my own “little bit of good.”

It’s still the gift I most love to give – not only to others, but also to myself.