How I learned to cook and gained 60 pounds.

One of the greatest things about my mother is her ability to serve up the absolute best, authentic Southern fare you’ve ever tasted.  I challenge you to find a fried chicken recipe that comes anywhere near that of my mom.  Seriously, I’m not joking.  Not once have I ever had fried chicken at a restaurant or in anyone else’s home that comes close.  I’ve also never been able to duplicate it. 

She also makes homemade biscuits and tomato gravy that will knock your socks off.  And since my mom comes to visit for my birthday every year---and my friends have figured out she usually makes both of the dishes when she does--- the requests to come over have been pouring in.  Her food is really that delicious.

But even though I grew up watching her cook every single day of my life, I was never really interested in learning.  Maybe it’s because I never saw her use a recipe once and I’m extremely concrete.  I just assumed cooking wouldn’t really be my thing.  But when I told my husband I was ready to start a family, his response was: “I think you should learn to cook first.”  Sure he was probably trying to buy a little time, but it turned out that his statement would completely change my life. 

I started out with a cookbook which only required 5 ingredients for each recipe.  It was a great jumping-off point and within a week I’d grown more confident.  After watching hours of the Food Network and learning everything I could about knives, gadgets, and cookware, I moved toward more difficult dishes.  And within three months I’d become a pretty darn good cook and I was pregnant.

While carrying Teague, my skills matured further and I got much more comfortable with complex (or as my mother calls them “frou-frou”) dishes.  Pretty much the only thing that got me off my growing butt was food, and some days I cooked up to 3 full meals.  I ate them all too which is why I gained 60 pounds.  Well, that and Wendy’s Triples.

Soon, I became a recipe hound, seeking them out online, in magazines, on TV, and from other people.  I even started building my own recipe book.  Now, as nerdy and Type A as it sounds, I quickly learned that laminating my recipes was the way to go.  Cooking is messy and I ruined more than a couple of my favorites before remembering I bought a laminating machine in grad school.  So after testing the recipe a few times, adding my own notes, and making sure it was  a keeper, I laminated it and added it to the book.  Five years later, I have created a recipe Bible (actually, there are now 5: Appetizers, Entrees, Drinks, Sides, Desserts) that friends and family alike come over to peruse.  Sometimes I even have it copied and give it as a gift.

But no matter how many times I watch my mom cook her fried chicken and tomato gravy and regardless of all the notes I’ve taken, I still can’t get those recipes right.  It must be that extra dash of love she throws in.  So I hope when she gets here next week she is ready to get in the kitchen.  My mouth is already watering as I think about the salty, greasy goodness.  After all, “frou frou” is delicious, but nothing beats a good old Southern home-cooked meal from your momma.