vaguely inspired memories of cooking mushrooms stuffed few memories of cooking for the Vegan Mofo . Just a small desire to share some memories of cooking that follow me from my childhood ...
My mom was a very good model. She was at home throughout my youth, to cook for 6 in our high-Canadian house in the countryside. It was pleasing to three young children, a grandfather and a father, which was not always easy. I was lucky to have lots of very good homemade dinners served in our large cozy table: block Chinese BBQ pork chops, macaroni topped, pink ham cubes (put I hated the most), pate salmon egg sauce, the famous chicken boiled and deboned which was used to make drums with chicken or fill the large bowl of delicious noodles Yet-ca-mein, the famous spinach and beet salad, and many many others that I forget.
And when Dad came back too late to supper with us, we were entitled to meal pancakes, macaroni and cheese, homemade or volcanoes of mashed potatoes filled with ketchup.
I always had great snacks, hot lunches in the thermos, dinner party where I could invite all my friends, treats to share at school for almost any occasion like cookies in the heart-st valentine, cupcakes, etc..
I also remember a time when mom was selling cakes she sewed and decorated herself for baptism, wedding or other event.
Grandpa he does not really cook at home but had a friend who was at the village restaurant. And it was they who delivered hot meals to my small elementary school. I remember among other excellent cabbage rolls. And I remember the little drawings that Grandpa was around my name on the cardboard flat to make me feel special.
's friend grandpa and my mom had a huge garden behind the house and was grown all kinds of fresh vegetables fresh. As the snow peas that I devoured in secret. It was also full of raspberries, strawberries, rhubarb, currants, gooseberries, grapes ...
My grandmother was also a super model woman in her kitchen. When we visited the Montreal, even if they came in the middle of the post-MIDIMAS, she was always ready with his rice soup one of my brothers Rafols, but I was also preparing his super long macaroni with butter, cheese and tomatoes because Canadian me I was crazy. It is obviously that we received at Christmas, and there was the total! All prepared from scratch
, it was probably put there for days and days ahead ... turkey, stuffing, potatoes, gravy, cranberries, stewed pigs' feet meatballs, bread, butter, all the little condiments and pickles in pretty little dishes that were only waiting for this out event. Royal Albert dishes Grandma then spread out all its glory on the big table. And for dessert, the Yule log, sometimes tart, a multitude of little dishes of candy and candy ribbons, treats and boxes of After Eight. Then at Easter, plus the huge feast ham (yuck, even ham) with the big cake shaped 3D lamb, preparing it to each of his children and grandchildren a large basket of chocolates she had crafted herself even in its small molds and each was entitled to his special eggs (like Laura Secord, but even better)
My dad is certainly not left side skills in the kitchen. It was probably him that I like most when I get up my sleeves and prepare something. Mainly because of its sense of improvisation, its particular way of cooking without a recipe and want to experiment.
I remember his famous banana cakes he knew by heart and changed according to the impulse of the moment, the basic recipe that everyone rafollait and we asked all like a birthday cake with chocolate icing. The recipe has evolved from milion different ways, sometimes with yogurt or sour cream, sometimes with all kinds of muffins (even with fruit tree strange unknown outside the house when we moved. my dad watched the birds for a week to see if we could eat ...). There was also its famous soups, which does not look like once to each other and felt good throughout the house. And his famous grilled on the BBQ. And his famous stuffed mushrooms. And its famous baked potatoes spicy.
My parents sometimes united their efforts for a whole day for a mega spaghetti sauce or strawberry jam ...
very young, I had tasted all the exotic and tropical fruits that were beginning to be on the market. Of starfruit in khaki, with blood orange kumquat, the rambutan, longan and lychee in the mangosteen, passion fruit, papaya and grenadine. My dad worked for a company of fruits and vegetables and we reported these delicacies at home.
In moving, the joys of the store, frozen meals, the trips Chow Vachon cakes, have obviously taken a bit above my head in a teenager newly arrived in town.
Then I went to my apartment and discovered the joys of grocery shopping myself (love it), I called my mother hundreds of times to know its revenues and those of Grandma, I took possession of the giant book The Encyclopedia of Canadian Cuisine Joan Benoit and I cooked many meals extra-not-at-all-vegan traditional.
I also took pleasure in putting my deck, play the perfect little housewife and hostess home cooking huge mountain of French toast or pancakes for guests completely hangover that littered the floor of my apartment after big show of rock'n'roll.
As I sit alone and wiser in a small home a few years later, I realized that I was dripping some meat (like ham), I never particularly liked the meat, I never really wanted to buy me for myself, and I could easily live without. My fridge has quietly taken the shape of a single vegetarian. Then I moved in with Johnny-on-vegan-super-strict-who-is-too-careful-with-his-and-food combinations I took as a personal challenge to cook vegan, discover great recipes and vegan continue to cook. And I love it.
