I made a big pot of seafood chowder today.
Big chunks of potato fought for space with clams in the shell while they simmered gently in the golden sauce.
When I make this particular soup I tend to get carried away with the variety of seafood I add to the mix and the stock pot is usually full to overflowing.
But what’s a little mess, right?
There was something enormously satisfying about walking in the door later that afternoon to the rich warm smell.
Comfort food.
My parents were both amazing cooks.
Mom tended to be the follow the recipe type whereas dad would get in the kitchen and simply create.
To this day I have yet to find a cheeseburger that can compete with the ones he made.
As we got older we were encouraged to try our hand in the kitchen.
My sister tended to follow in mom’s footsteps and follow a recipe.
I tended to walk the line between the two.
I learned through trial and error that some things just do not go together in the kitchen. There were some ‘interesting’ results at times.
One Sunday I convinced my parents to let me make a roast chicken for Sunday dinner. I’d been helping mom make her sage and onion stuffing for years and was excited to try it on my own.
Unfortunately, I’d gone over to a friend’s house that morning and lost track of the time.
When I raced into the house an hour late I was full of excuses and expecting a reprimand for being late.
Solemn faces greeted me as I apologized saying I would get right on preparing the chicken.
To this day I remember the disbelief I felt as mom said the chicken was already in the oven. As I had been late there had not been time to make the stuffing.
So they stuffed the chicken with dog food.
I was horrified.
As punishments go, this one heads to the top of the list. Right up to the moment I gingerly began scooping ‘stuffing’ out of the bird I was convinced I would find soggy pellets of dog food.
My parents got a lot of enjoyment out of that memory over the years. Mom would titter away as she recalled the look of relief on my face as I began pulling out mounds of sage and onion stuffing.
Needless to say, I learned my lesson and was never late again.
At least, not when it was my turn to cook.
fiona.grisswell@100milefreepress.net
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