Memories of Food and Family

On this Mother’s Day I am sharing a piece I wrote as a gift to my late mother for her 87th birthday. There were a lot of things we didn’t agree on, but in cats and cooking we always found common ground. Thanks Mom, for giving me life, and for showing me how to live it.

A tribute to my mother Virginia, the best home cook I have ever known…..

Our family of five moved to Toronto from California in 1965. For years after the move our Grandma Phyllis would send a package every Christmas with two fruitcakes, huge, heavy, soaked in booze and wrapped in cheesecloth. There would be one dark, and one light. The kids ate the light, the adults ate the dark. Included in the package were four different kinds of cookies, my favourites were the lemon bars and the fantastic shortbread, everything made with loads of butter, and love. You could taste both in abundance.

My food memories start earlier than that, back to Berkeley, where we lived till I was eight. Dinner would often involve artichokes, one each with a common bowl of mayonnaise used for dipping the leaves and the succulent heart. There were also build your own tacos, and for special occasions, scallop and shrimp ceviche. Mom made bread, and we helped make cinnamon buns with the leftover dough. My birthday dinner request in those days was barbecue chicken, corn on the cob, potato salad, watermelon and chocolate cake. This remains one of my favourite summer meals. Sweets were not a constant in our house, but there were treats, a baggie of cheerios and raisins was an afterschool snack, and while shopping with Mom at the Co-op we were allowed a box of chewy Chinese candies. The magic of these candies was that you didn’t have to unwrap them, each was wrapped in a delicate edible rice paper, and every box contained a tiny toy.

We did have cake for celebrations, and occasionally ice cream, which we sometimes made into milkshakes from the Adele Davis cookbook. A delicious wheatgerm brownie also came from Adele Davis’s Let’s Cook it Right, but the Joy of Cooking was our go to family cookbook. I feel like I grew up with the Rombauer women, a mother and team no less!

A few years after moving to Toronto, Mom went back to school for her masters degree and required us girls to pitch in with making dinners. We were each assigned one night a week when we were responsible for feeding our family. She taught us to make from scratch: spaghetti sauce, honey and soy glazed chicken, rice, pasta, salad dressing, and tuna casserole. I loved the hotdogs floating in homemade cornbread. We learned to measure, mix, chop, taste and season. And how to wash dishes. I think I equally enjoyed and resented the responsibility, but am grateful now for being taught the basics of cooking at a young age.

When I was a teenager Petros entered our lives, we moved to Huron Street, and our meals became little more interesting. There were Saturday trips to Kensington or St. Lawrence markets where we would load up on bagels, fresh cream cheese and butter carved off of huge slabs, pickles from a barrel, whole salamis, halva, onion flatbread….also regular visits to the Danforth for feta, olive oil, Greek cheeses and pastries with complicated names that rolled off mom’s tongue. We made fudge and learned how to use candy thermometer and the magic of hardball/softball testing. We had marvellous backyard birthday parties for Kathryn and myself, surrounded by tulips and daffodils, with the crowning glory of Coeur a la Creme and the first strawberries of the season.

As young adults we continued to cook and share meals as a family. Mom and Petros had moved to Brunswick Avenue and renovated an old brick Victorian house. Long and narrow with high ceilings, the first floor was open from front to back. It is a beautiful home and the perfect place for gathering. This was the eighties and exotic foreign foods were the trend. We had a well used copy of Charmain Soloman’s “The Complete Asian Cookbook” and made forays to Kensington Market and Chinatown to procure the necessary ingredients for an Indian curry or fabulous Chinese feast. We all shared in the cooking, there was lots of wine, cigarettes and laughs, various friends and boyfriends joining in. Those were our Friday nights on Brunswick Avenue.

In later years dinner at Mom and Petros’s became a little more sedate. There was more Mediterranean style cooking, lots of garlic, olive oil, vegetables, fresh parmesan, risottos and pasta. Lots of pasta. I remember Mom saying she could cook a different pasta dish every day of the year. And I believe she could. There were homegrown tomato and basil salads, stuffed baby eggplant, most every meal accompanied by a loaf of crusty bread and a simple green salad. There was still plenty of wine, some arguments, some laughs, and sometimes a Metaxa or two to finish. For celebrations Mom made her legendary $100 Bouillabaisse, my birthday pick for years. After Mom retired, although still active in her profession, she had more time for baking and creating wonderful desserts. Her signature creme caramel, a layered cake involving lemon curd, pies, cobblers, tiramisu, tiny loaves of bread…all beautiful.

Christmas on Brunswick Avenue always included the smell of Pfeffernusse cookies in the oven, homemade eggnog and brandy, angel chimes on the table and Handel’s Messiah on the stereo. A fresh Christmas tree was decorated with paper snowflakes, strings of popcorn and cranberries, and an eclectic assortment of ornaments, some which had made the trip from California. Many people make this claim, but I know that our mother made the best turkey, gravy, and pumpkin pie in the world.

Mom, you have taught me much. You taught me to cook and the importance of quality in food, art, clothes, music, life. You are a great role model and I thank you. Growing up eating real food and sitting down to dinner as family has been an integral part of my life.

I have for over thirty years made a living cooking, a career I am grateful for because it allows me to be creative, independent, and forever learning. When my customers ask me where I learned to cook, I proudly say “my mom taught me”.

Love Jude, April 2, 2016