For
so many years, I've challenged people on their use of the term
“spoiled”. To me, spoiled is not a state of being, spoiled
is an attitude
and mindset, a true belief that one needs or possesses something that
makes their life complete. Just because a person has nice possessions
does not necessarily mean that they're spoiled.
Well,
friends. I confess before you here today that I was just blindsided
by the realization that I have been so spoiled in one crucial way: my
momma's cooking. Maybe it's something genetic within Italians, but my
mom knows how to make various foods come together to make the second
coming of Jesus on a plate. Like, Snape, the potions master, she
could throw in a dash of this, a flask of that, stir it three times
and produce heavenly, steaming magic, while (in the meantime) keeping
her kitchen essentially spotless. Magic, I tell you.
So
last night I decided to be brave and adventurous and to whip out one
of Momma's recipes of Tortellini Soup. Fall is in full swing, folks,
whether you like it or not, which means [at least in my mind] that
soup season is ready to be embraced. [Note: thats one thing I really
appreciate about China. It's soup season
all year round!]
Tortellini Soup: always a classic in our family, usually accompanied
by some leafy greens and some fresh hearty bread of somekind. To
reminisce of those golden childhood years I chopped up some celery
sticks and popped some frozen biscuits into the oven.
Things
seemed to be going okay, until I came to the part with the liquid.
This is where momma's directions took more of an abstract approach
and didn't completely guide this little piggy all the way home. I
poured in reasonable amounts of crushed tomato and beef broth.
Two-thirds through the container I knew something was dreadfully
wrong. This didn't smell like mommas cooking! This was remnants of
cow. How could I claim to be my mothers daughter if I had a liquid
calf boiling on the stove?! Although I was internally depressed that
things were not going to taste how I imagined, I was also too cheap
to go buy new materials. So throwing in a few extra carrots, extra
green beans, and a couple extra dashes of Parmesan cheese, I did my
best to make it edible.
As
I sat at the table with my soup, funfetti cookies in the oven, I sat
and reminisced about our family days at the kitchen table. Depending
on the day, the other siblings provided their own entertainment show,
or sat in silence and spoke in hisses. Dad always cleaned up the
plates of the kiddos who couldn't finish, and momma always kept the
conversation aglow. I always merrily laughed along. But now... now
that I think about it... Momma, that master magician of all things
edible, never seemed to be struck by the magic of her own cooking,
always deflecting compliments with shoulder shrugs and throaty noises
of mediocrity. A realization dawned on me, and in that moment I knew
that there would never be a way for me to recreate my momma's
cooking. I was missing something crucial, that one invisible
ingredient that my soup so severely lacked, and no store within 200
miles would have it stock piled on their shelves to satisfy the
goodness I was hoping to concoct on my own: Momma's love. You can't
bottle that sucker or compact it into a bullion cube.
So alas, here I sit fully realizing my state of spoiledness towards the foods that I hold so near and dear to my heart stomach. I fully realize now that I will never cook like my mom, and it will never, ever taste quite as good as I want it to. At least theres funfetti cookies to make it a little better.
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