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Reyasunshine
August 30, 2007

Confessions of a Chef's Daughter

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I took these photos while I was visiting my parents in March/April of this year. I LOVE this photo of my mom because she just looks so happy and beautiful (ironically, I look terribly tired as I'm about to fly home to RI). The colored photos are ACTUAL photos taken from her house... believe it or not!

(LO is straight in real life... promise! ;) )

Journaling (which I wrote in Colorado... I planned this page the whole time!):
As a kid, I think my friends were more interested in eating my mom’s food than they were to come over and hang-out with me. Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but boy, did my friends love her. Really! Not only is she a *fantastic* chef, but she’s also known for the smile on her face and the love in her heart. (Of course, it helped that she always sent my friends home with chocolate chip cookies.)

She grew up as a daughter of a chef too. She never had macaroni and cheese from a box until she was well into her twenties. Pretty much anything from a box or a can was against their faith. And don’t even mention the words “margarine” or “Miracle Whip” in her presence.

I remember coming home from a friend’s house one evening during grade school. I ran to the kitchen to find my mom. Excited, I shouted, “Guess what, Mom?! They have this new stuff… mashed potatoes in a box!!” She burst out laughing. I had never heard of such a thing! I begged her to buy Shake ’N Bake (that commercial made it seem great), but it was, after all, from a box. So… no Shake ‘N Bake for me! I finally tried it in eighth grade (NOT at my house). Over-rated. She was right. I never had Hamburger Helper until my brother’s girlfriend cooked for me one night. I was 12. And although I was excited that I had finally tasted it, my taste buds were too spoiled to enjoy it.

At friends’ houses, I knew their mothers had cooked the vegetables too long, and they didn’t baste the turkey enough. I knew their mashed potatoes must not have been whipped with a Kitchen Aid mixer.

“Speechless” was a word to describe the way I felt when I realized Cuisinart food processors were not staples in every household’s kitchen. What can I say? I’m the daughter of a chef.

As an adult, I suppose it has been helpful. I know Calphalon is over-priced, and Wolfgang Puck is the way to go. I know it’s a waste of money to buy any knives other than Cutco or J.A. Henckels. I know that if my mom is coming over, I need to hide the non-butter tub spread and pretend that I use real butter for everything. And I know that any recipe I need can be found in *her* own cookbook.

As time goes on, the worse it gets. Only cookbooks (and her Bible) fill her bookcases. Other people store their spices and cocoa next to the nail polish remover and hairdryer in the bathroom cabinet, right?! And I really shouldn’t have been surprised when I asked my mom for toilet paper, and she told me it was right next to the BBQ sauce and Ziploc bags… under the bathroom sink. Of course! Next to the BBQ sauce! Why didn’t I look there? And the evaporated milk? Right next to the cheesecake pans and bed sheets in the bedroom closet, of course.

Yes, I’m a chef’s daughter. So even though I giggle and shake my head, I’m not surprised by these things at all. This is who she is, and I wouldn’t trade her for all the moms in the world (you know, the ones who *don’t* have rolling carts full of flour and pie fillings in their living rooms).


layouts scrapbooking Black Brown Orange Black & White Color Die Cuts Distressing
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