Marshall Banana
Assistant Cook
For the better part of three years I have begun cooking for myself and/or others. It was a marvelous thing to start, too, and I found a few moderate successes from my willing eaters. Unfortunately, at that time, they were all heavy drinkers, so their opinion couldn't be counted, as I was never sure they were even tasting the food.
Then, I became unanimously elected by the family to move to Springfield, OH, to become the primary caregiver to my elderly grandmother, the last living matriarch of our family. Here, I enjoyed a lot of praise, since my grandmother doesn't drink, save a glass of sherry before bed, and I valued her opinion because she was always hailed as the "great chef of the family..." ...until I ate her food. She carries a lot of what she holds dear (not in just terms of food) from an older generation that is still rife with misconceptions and, I hesitate to say, an uneducated view point of what food is today, or what it can be. Her mantra appears to be that oversalting and overheating/cooking is the only way that food can be eaten; so when I cook fish, or finally get that roast to come out medium rare, I have to take an extra step to burn the heck out of her piece(s) so that she might eat it.
That's a brief summary of my quick culinary history. My problem now is that I've become disillusioned with cooking, which rapidly became my favourite activity, since now I have to underseason, never use spicy ingredients, no matter how mild they become, and pander to the wilting tastebuds of an older generation... which is tough, since I don't like or want to cook the colour and flavour out of vegetables so that they're "done."
A new friend of mine told me I was depressed. I disagreed then, but now, after some contemplation on the subject (and grandma's six-hour roasted chicken dinner that was ready at lunchtime), I have to agree. Because of it, I doubt any prowess that I might have had in this area, and find myself cooking simple, tasteless, grey meals so that I don't have to hear or explain why my food is different or "inedible." It doesn't satisfy my need to cook, and makes me doubt everything I prepare and present. Really, this whole area has effected my outlook on the world around me..., since I carry that depression with me. And what's worse, when grandma goes to bed, I feel the itch to cook a thing of grandeur, despite that I'm not hungry, and none of my Ohio friends want to come to an 1am dinner, so I eat alone and then go to bed full.
I searched a while online for a cooking community that may/may not have people going through the same thing as I am, and I found this place. I hope to find like-minded people and recipes that may start uplifting me out of this funk, since I still feel like I could cook straight for 24hrs and still want to cook more. Out of all my endeavours, I haven't found anything like cooking(as it applies to me) that has been able to express me or showcase a fantastic thought that I might have had. Philosophy through food and such. Plus, it impresses the ladies.
The irony of it all is that 99% of the "dinner parties" I've cooked for have been for other 90+yr olds, who want nothing to do with rare tuna steaks or a slightly spicy sauce over pasta, and the 1% consisting of my new friend, whose opinion I want to trust since he's eaten all over the world, but I don't know that he gave it honestly. That fateful meal, the herb salad was flawed, there wasn't enough acid on the fish, and so on, and he still ate it up and said it was excellent... Maybe I gave him too much credit, or I just can't believe that I've done something worthwhile, even as all the errors are apparent in the taste.
Forgive me for the long-winded introduction, but it has been nice to get out an uninterrupted thought, as it has been a while since I've been able to do that, too. I am happy to have found this place, and I hope that both the community here and myself benefit from what this site offers.
Thank you.
Then, I became unanimously elected by the family to move to Springfield, OH, to become the primary caregiver to my elderly grandmother, the last living matriarch of our family. Here, I enjoyed a lot of praise, since my grandmother doesn't drink, save a glass of sherry before bed, and I valued her opinion because she was always hailed as the "great chef of the family..." ...until I ate her food. She carries a lot of what she holds dear (not in just terms of food) from an older generation that is still rife with misconceptions and, I hesitate to say, an uneducated view point of what food is today, or what it can be. Her mantra appears to be that oversalting and overheating/cooking is the only way that food can be eaten; so when I cook fish, or finally get that roast to come out medium rare, I have to take an extra step to burn the heck out of her piece(s) so that she might eat it.
That's a brief summary of my quick culinary history. My problem now is that I've become disillusioned with cooking, which rapidly became my favourite activity, since now I have to underseason, never use spicy ingredients, no matter how mild they become, and pander to the wilting tastebuds of an older generation... which is tough, since I don't like or want to cook the colour and flavour out of vegetables so that they're "done."
A new friend of mine told me I was depressed. I disagreed then, but now, after some contemplation on the subject (and grandma's six-hour roasted chicken dinner that was ready at lunchtime), I have to agree. Because of it, I doubt any prowess that I might have had in this area, and find myself cooking simple, tasteless, grey meals so that I don't have to hear or explain why my food is different or "inedible." It doesn't satisfy my need to cook, and makes me doubt everything I prepare and present. Really, this whole area has effected my outlook on the world around me..., since I carry that depression with me. And what's worse, when grandma goes to bed, I feel the itch to cook a thing of grandeur, despite that I'm not hungry, and none of my Ohio friends want to come to an 1am dinner, so I eat alone and then go to bed full.
I searched a while online for a cooking community that may/may not have people going through the same thing as I am, and I found this place. I hope to find like-minded people and recipes that may start uplifting me out of this funk, since I still feel like I could cook straight for 24hrs and still want to cook more. Out of all my endeavours, I haven't found anything like cooking(as it applies to me) that has been able to express me or showcase a fantastic thought that I might have had. Philosophy through food and such. Plus, it impresses the ladies.
The irony of it all is that 99% of the "dinner parties" I've cooked for have been for other 90+yr olds, who want nothing to do with rare tuna steaks or a slightly spicy sauce over pasta, and the 1% consisting of my new friend, whose opinion I want to trust since he's eaten all over the world, but I don't know that he gave it honestly. That fateful meal, the herb salad was flawed, there wasn't enough acid on the fish, and so on, and he still ate it up and said it was excellent... Maybe I gave him too much credit, or I just can't believe that I've done something worthwhile, even as all the errors are apparent in the taste.
Forgive me for the long-winded introduction, but it has been nice to get out an uninterrupted thought, as it has been a while since I've been able to do that, too. I am happy to have found this place, and I hope that both the community here and myself benefit from what this site offers.
Thank you.