good cooks & baNana bread

This past month hasn't held anything ground-breaking, but there have been a few events that have left me thinking for quite some time, along with some words I've puzzled over for longer than the speaker could have possibly intended.  Sometimes I wonder if I'm insane for mulling over the phrasings people choose.  I tend to decide it's not normal.  Then I chalk it up to "being a 'writer.'"  Then I realize I haven't actually written anything in a while and that I've been slacking off on my reading-oriented intention for this year.  Oops.

So, today, as part of a celebration for my Indiana driver's license (In the picture I look like a fool and am smirking because the woman told me I could smile - but no teeth - and I didn't take the time to think about how I'd look if I didn't show my teeth if I didn't fully commit to the smile.), I walked to the local library.  Let me just say, I walked there once with Tom before the snow decided to engulf us.  The walk seemed a lot longer today!  But no matter.  I made it.  And after going through the rigorous library card screening process (it's not over yet!), I checked out two movies I've been wanting to show Tom, along with Lee Smith's Fair and Tender Ladies.  I've been wanting to read it for a while now and I have two weeks to do so.  I'll probably start it tomorrow.  We watched one of the movies already, too.  But, to make myself feel better about the writing bit, I'll do some of that now.

I've been thinking about some of the most common-place words.

A couple weeks ago, my mother-in-law and I were out to lunch at one of Valpo's adorable downtown restaurants - Meditrina - and were talking about food and cooking and life.  She was interested in what I'd eaten during my time in Turkey, whether it was like the things at Meditrina, and the like.  I explained as well as I could that Turkish food where I was tended to be similar to the stuff on my plate, but not the same - also, that I'd eaten a lot of street food and hotel food, but never once eaten in a Turkish home, but that I've tried my own hand at a few things.

Then it happened.

"I'm not a good cook."

She tacked on some qualifiers and I listened.

And it keeps popping into my head time and again.  I know so many people who don't consider themselves good cooks.  I know a lot of people who think they're good cooks and can't cook at all.  I know people who are amazing cooks.  I know people who whip cream just for coffee.  I know people who drink instant coffee like it's the best thing ever.  I know that I could probably make ramen, Kraft macaroni and cheese and hot dogs, or pick up a carry-out pizza every night for dinner for the rest of my life and be a happy girl - and Tom would probably be happy right along with me.

But I have grown to love so many more things.  When I was little, the adults in my life were all extremely concerned about my food pickiness.  I didn't like vegetables other than carrots and corn.  I didn't like Chinese food except for egg drop soup.  I didn't like most soups.  I'd only eat bread and dessert at Lenten soup suppers.  I got sick of lunch meats after demanding to have the same type for an extended period of time.  I didn't eat the majority of breakfast-type food.

And so here I am today.  I'm the one insisting that we have a vegetable with every dinner - and the only veggies in my freezer are green ones.  I make yogurt from scratch after having grown up on Trix yogurt and then Yoplait.  I licked the top of a Trix yogurt the other day; I won't be going back to it.  I just ate a lot of General Tso's chicken and enjoyed every bite.  For "the pickiest kid I ever saw," I crave a lot of variety in my diet.

"I'm not a good cook."

Tom's comment when I told him this was, "Does she think that's why there are never many leftovers?"  I wanted to dismiss it.  I just couldn't.

You see, I grew up with someone who I don't think would ever have actually said that, but who really wasn't a very good cook.  Nana somehow made every meat the same way - stringy and dry.  She made every vegetable the same, too - spongy and wet.  Everything was overcooked.  And when I was little, we were living in a post-coronary world filled with low fat and fat free versions.  Trust me, we're not talking about the '90's that normal Americans on diets experienced.  We're talking the lives of two people who were told to limit their fat intakeor else.  We had I Can't Believe It's Not Butter and switched to Brummel & Brown because of the yogurt inside.  These were the lowest fat contents available, of course.  Fat free sour cream.  Reduced fat Jif.  The 2% Velveeta was the only cheese in sight.  Skim milk for Papa and 2% for me.  Turkey bacon and Egg Beaters.  Now, this is not to say that good things can't be made with low and no fat options, but I think it enhanced my pickiness a bit.  I didn't really like eggs at home, but it didn't help that they tasted different in restaurants - the same for bacon and milk.  I didn't know that butter was its own thing.  On the other hand, fast food tasted especially delicious, so guess who ate more than her fair share when she got the chance!

Anyway, Nana had a few fantastic dishes - her lasagna is mimicked but never matched, the banana bread recipe is cherished, though it's just from an old Betty Crocker cookbook, the baked potatoes were always done on time, she could throw together homemade chicken noodle soup at the spike of a fever, she'd microwave Pop Tarts for me instead of toasting them, and she placed the cinnamon rolls perfectly on Christmas morning and baked them without burning.  I'm sure there are other things I've forgotten, which is making me tear up, but a lot of memories are lost and many are treasured.  Someday, I'll probably forget the Pop Tart thing, but not today.

I have a loaf of that cherished baNana bread in the oven right now.  Reading through the recipe - which, by the way, I was reading from an email I sent my dad five years ago because people in our family can't make any old banana bread - I began to think.  I'm usually so quick to make substitutions in recipes, to go on a whim and to make it my own.  I've never strayed from this one, except that I never have margarine or "soft shortening" on hand, so I just use butter.  I've also never put the optional 3/4 cup of walnuts in.

Do you know why?

Because I've never had baNana bread with nuts.  I didn't like nuts when I was little.  Nana never put them in, so I've never had this particular recipe with nuts.  I guess I should mention that this banana bread really isn't typical; it rises higher than most and is more bready than most, which seem more cake-like.  You can butter it and it barely crumbles.  It's weird, but it's fantastic.

Three recent creations:
-Roast chicken and
mashed potatoes
-Cherry pie
-Yogurt battered, sesame
coated chicken strips
and skillet cornbread

Nana used to make it whenever we had old bananas.  It was probably the most commonly-baked good in the home.  She never put in the nuts.  At church get-togethers, if someone had brought banana bread, she'd have a piece and comment on how delicious the nuts were in it.  She loved banana-nut bread, but she never put those walnuts in to my knowledge.  Sometimes, when I was older, she'd consider it and sort of ask me if I liked nuts yet.  I usually said I could just not eat it if she put them in - and then probably whined a little about it.  So she never put them in.  She loved me so much and wanted to put a smile on my little face so badly that she sacrificed her likes for mine.

So, it strikes me: being a good cook isn't about being well-rounded or fancy or whatever Food Network, Cooking Light Magazine, and your favorite food blogger are telling you it's about today.

Maybe it's just about finding what you make well, what you and your loved ones enjoy, and being happy with what you do in the kitchen and even in the grocery store.

Me?  I tend to be able to make a bit of every cuisine I've encountered.  And I do well with most things.  And the looks of joy on the eaters' faces, the overwhelming spiciness I enjoy that comes when I pour way too much cayenne for anyone else onto my ramen or chili, and the happiness I get from cooking is what makes me happy.

As I was mixing my batter tonight, it struck me that I could put the walnuts in.  But then it wouldn't be the same.  So, I tried another experiment instead - I put half of the flour in as whole wheat.  We'll see how that works - it's smelling great, by the way.  Maybe next time I'll be adventurous enough to try the walnuts Nana left out and dedicate those mouthfulls to her memory and to the good cooks I know - those who sacrifice for their loved ones and find their bliss in the smiles on the faces around them.

Let's focus on what makes us good cooks, not what makes us not good cooks.  Every one of us has something.  I've seen my mother-in-law's food gobbled up.  The strengths matter so much more than the weaknesses.  What makes you a good cook?

P.S.:  I've tried it now - it's good!  It rose a bit higher than usual, but could probably use more bananas than it normally does!  Yum!