If you've read my previous Post, then you can see I had begun down the path of the culinary calling but High School soccer, photography, etc had taken over. I was a student at the Knox Prep School in St. James NY, and let's just say that the menu and kitchen there were stark. I did learn that Welch Rarebit is NOT rabbit, but basically cheese on toasted bread, and croquet isn't just a game played on the lawn.
Then there was graduation and college.
I attended Hartwick College in Oneonta New York, which is a small private school with two really great things - the soccer program and the kitchen. I'm not kidding, our "commons" had two hot food lines, a grill to order area, salad bar AND ice cream bar. When the Holidays approached they would have a steak dinner (you got one ticket for one NY strip steak) with all the trimmings including unlimited peel and eat shrimp in an actual Ice Sculpture.
I had found food once again, and found that it could be good. I was an art lover and not artist at that point as I lived on campus and had no access to a stove or refrigerator. Entering my two Senior years (one off to reflect, one on to graduate) I lived with two roommates on the second story of an old Victorian house downtown. My skills were primitive and I banged around with easy college foods (Mac -n- Cheese, Ramein Noodles, bacon grilled cheese sandwiches, etc.).
One day I returned to the apartment after classes to find my roommate Walter preparing a whole chicken for roasting, along with potatoes for mashing, and some kind broccoli dish. He was kind enough to share with me his/his mother's knowledge of roast chicken dinner. I was re-engaged with the cooking desire, the desire to prepare food that way I liked it, and the way the Frugal Gormet (Jeff Smith) showed me how to do it.
Yep, the Food Network didn't exist but thank God PBS knew a good thing and had Jeff along with Julia Child helping while away many a cold and snowy Winter's afternoons.
Side Note: Oneonta is between Albany and Binghamton NY and has vicious Winter weather. My Freshman year had one week in January where every night it got down to at least 20 below zero, and as much at 30 below.
My roommates and I would take turns preparing "family" dinners every so often when we weren't busy partying and fooling around. Humble beginnings indeed for a Chef. No great back story of working as a child in restaurants, or being whisked away by a European uncle for culinary training in the old country. Nope for me it has always been a fascination driven education of self teaching. Next we move onto the early years of my adult life, and some humorous mistakes along the way.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Thursday, October 6, 2011
My Relationship with Food - Part I
To see me, and talk with me, today would give the impression that I'd been an avid foodie from birth - but that's not exactly the case. As a young boy I was a very finicky, picky eater. If I didn't like the way food looked, smelled, or tasted I would fake a stomach ache and get excused from eating my dinner.
This trick worked for several years until my Dad, a surgeon, actually became concerned with my health and well being (I'm not kidding, I was so skinny you could see my ribs). One day he decided to find out what was wrong and why I always had stomach aches. We took a field trip to the hospital where I was required to drink a "shake" that tasted like chalk and have a full gastro-intestinal scan. The scan came back negative, and the GI Doc basically said "your Son just doesn't like to eat". This made no sense to my Dad, which was fine since I was a conundrum to most people.
Now I don't want to give the impression that I didn't eat at all, just not that much, and quite often skipping 2 or 3 dinners. I did, however, like much of my Mom's recipes but I would augment them at the table to change the food to my liking. My sister still remembers my habit of dabbing cream cheese on my cut pieces of Stuffed Peppers, and not just applying the said cream cheese to my pumpernickel bread (always served with Stuffed Peppers). This was even baffling to my family as they all used butter on the bread.
I had a very acute sense of smell and could detect the evening's meal from up the neighborhood, and usually would make up my mind on whether I'd be eating that night - - or feeling not so well, and opting for some fresh fruit or other substitute.
Yeah, let's discuss Fruit. I loved it, and my Mom always kept the house stocked with whatever was in season to try and steer us towards healthy snacking. My Brother and Sister seemed always more taken with junk food and sweets. Again, I was a skinny kid, so my Mom would actually buy me candy treats to be hidden away from my Brother and Sister. She did this for two reasons 1) I would actually ration myself so the box of chocolates would last two weeks and 2) I was skinny.
I liked oddball things like dried fruits; apricots, dates, prunes, and figs - still do love my dried fruits! My favorite candy was licorice, and if I couldn't sleep at night I would wake my Mom up and she would walk me down to the kitchen for a drink of - - orange juice. Yep, juice - not milk.
Aside from my differing tastes, I did have the curiosity and would always bother my Mom about not what she was cooking, but how she was cooking it. By the time I was 10 I knew how to make pork roast, Swiss steak, Latkes (potato pancakes), chopped liver, creamed beats, leg of lamb, Ham -n- noodle casserole, green bean casserole, and lasagna. Knowing was enough at the time, I wasn't ready for the apron yet.
Seventh Grade - boys were mixed into Home Economics, which is a misnomer - it was more like teaching remedial home skills of sewing and cooking and had nothing to do with balancing the home budget . . . but I digress. Yeah, the sewing was OK - I made a pillow that was a soccer ball, but the cooking was very cool. We made muffins, brownies, and the big pretzel. If you are a New Yorker, you understand the importance of the big hot pretzel.
Producing these foodstuffs wasn't enjoyment in my eating them, it was more the excitement and praise I would receive from my siblings and parents when I would produce these fresh bakery products at home. I was always seeking praise and approval, and food was my vehicle. It seemed easy enough to me, but to my Sister and Brother it was an amazing and delicious feat of great effort and complexity.
My pinnacle of cooking skill was the production of a Tahitian Chicken dinner replete with wild rice pilaf and individual pineapple boats for my family. My Mom was so awesome about letting me do this that we ate dinner in the Dinning Room and used the good china!
Ahhh, but my wanderlust with food took a sidebar to turning 15 and focusing on girls, driving, and general mischief. Not a bad start for the first third of my life, the next chapter will come in my next blog.
This trick worked for several years until my Dad, a surgeon, actually became concerned with my health and well being (I'm not kidding, I was so skinny you could see my ribs). One day he decided to find out what was wrong and why I always had stomach aches. We took a field trip to the hospital where I was required to drink a "shake" that tasted like chalk and have a full gastro-intestinal scan. The scan came back negative, and the GI Doc basically said "your Son just doesn't like to eat". This made no sense to my Dad, which was fine since I was a conundrum to most people.
Now I don't want to give the impression that I didn't eat at all, just not that much, and quite often skipping 2 or 3 dinners. I did, however, like much of my Mom's recipes but I would augment them at the table to change the food to my liking. My sister still remembers my habit of dabbing cream cheese on my cut pieces of Stuffed Peppers, and not just applying the said cream cheese to my pumpernickel bread (always served with Stuffed Peppers). This was even baffling to my family as they all used butter on the bread.
I had a very acute sense of smell and could detect the evening's meal from up the neighborhood, and usually would make up my mind on whether I'd be eating that night - - or feeling not so well, and opting for some fresh fruit or other substitute.
Yeah, let's discuss Fruit. I loved it, and my Mom always kept the house stocked with whatever was in season to try and steer us towards healthy snacking. My Brother and Sister seemed always more taken with junk food and sweets. Again, I was a skinny kid, so my Mom would actually buy me candy treats to be hidden away from my Brother and Sister. She did this for two reasons 1) I would actually ration myself so the box of chocolates would last two weeks and 2) I was skinny.
I liked oddball things like dried fruits; apricots, dates, prunes, and figs - still do love my dried fruits! My favorite candy was licorice, and if I couldn't sleep at night I would wake my Mom up and she would walk me down to the kitchen for a drink of - - orange juice. Yep, juice - not milk.
Aside from my differing tastes, I did have the curiosity and would always bother my Mom about not what she was cooking, but how she was cooking it. By the time I was 10 I knew how to make pork roast, Swiss steak, Latkes (potato pancakes), chopped liver, creamed beats, leg of lamb, Ham -n- noodle casserole, green bean casserole, and lasagna. Knowing was enough at the time, I wasn't ready for the apron yet.
Seventh Grade - boys were mixed into Home Economics, which is a misnomer - it was more like teaching remedial home skills of sewing and cooking and had nothing to do with balancing the home budget . . . but I digress. Yeah, the sewing was OK - I made a pillow that was a soccer ball, but the cooking was very cool. We made muffins, brownies, and the big pretzel. If you are a New Yorker, you understand the importance of the big hot pretzel.
Producing these foodstuffs wasn't enjoyment in my eating them, it was more the excitement and praise I would receive from my siblings and parents when I would produce these fresh bakery products at home. I was always seeking praise and approval, and food was my vehicle. It seemed easy enough to me, but to my Sister and Brother it was an amazing and delicious feat of great effort and complexity.
My pinnacle of cooking skill was the production of a Tahitian Chicken dinner replete with wild rice pilaf and individual pineapple boats for my family. My Mom was so awesome about letting me do this that we ate dinner in the Dinning Room and used the good china!
Ahhh, but my wanderlust with food took a sidebar to turning 15 and focusing on girls, driving, and general mischief. Not a bad start for the first third of my life, the next chapter will come in my next blog.
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