Last night was downright cold. When I went out earlier this morning, it was 57˚. The sun is wending its way to winter. Soon it will give us just light, not warmth, and that light is less and less and shorter and shorter each day. Before long the mornings will be dark and the nights will come early.
The leaves still wear their summer colors, but mums are front and center in all the farm stands and garden shops. The bright colors of summer flowers have been replaced by the muted colors of fall. I figure it is nature’s way of getting us ready for winter with its drab, colorless days. It is no wonder Christmas is always welcomed as a respite. Its colorful lights and red poinsettias light up even the darkest days.
I never really learned to cook until I was in my twenty’s. I just wasn’t interested. My mother made basic meals, nothing fancy, because that’s what we ate, and they were my father’s favorites. Give him mashed potatoes, red meat and canned asparagus for dinner and he’d be a happy man. The funny thing was if he didn’t see you adding different ingredients he never noticed the taste. According to him, garlic was limited to shrimp scampi, but the man ate a lot of garlic. He just didn’t know it.
My first foray into baking was in Ghana where I made sugar cookies at Christmas time. They were delicious, and I was amazed. I couldn’t believe I could actually make cookies. They were Christmas shapes with different colored sprinkles, compliments of my mother. I also made some pies. Even the crust was delicious. I never tried my hand at main dishes as there were few choices, especially for vegetables. My evening meals were sort of boring. It wasn’t until I got home that I tried cooking whole meals. One of my first triumphs was chicken Kiev. When the butter spurted as it was supposed to, I expected loud cheers and clapping at such an accomplishment. It didn’t happen, but I wasn’t deterred. I made my Indian curry for a crowd, and they all seconds. I made Chinese food and Greek food. I took my friends on a culinary trip around the world. I found out I could make almost anything taste good. I knew how Rocky felt standing triumphant on the steps of the Philadelphia Museum as I felt the same way. I just didn’t wear a watch cap and sweats.
