When I took the wine tasting class, I was told that it was okay if I didn't recognize certain smells in the wine - they simply weren't part of my scent heritage. Well, I don't really have much of a culinary heritage either. I just this week learned the proper way to hold a knife while chopping, that peeling cultivated mushrooms keeps them from turning dark, and how to cut a real vanilla bean. I did not really learn how to cook when I was growing up. My grandmothers were both great ladies, but weren't the best of cooks. I remember Pringles and oyster crackers, Grape Nuts and lemon drops at one; ham, canned asparagus, jello fruit cocktail salad and Little Debbie snacks at the other. And I grew up in the 80s, when Hamburger Helper was a staple in many a busy household. (I've always known how to make a mean chocolate chip cookie, though).
It was my year teaching in France that got me really interested in cooking. I lived in a small town with just a handful of cafés and restaurants, and fast food was out of the question. I had to feed myself, I had more free time, and my colleagues frequently brought me fresh produce. So despite the fact that my kitchen wasn't very well equipped, I tried out new things. Stir in a lot of reading about the American diet, the devolution of food, and the importance of eating things "in season," and a foodie was born. I started stocking my U.S. kitchen with more and more gadgets and spices, and my surprise cocotte from A & S last summer kicked off a new collection of cookware as well.
The French really seem to know how to eat well-balanced meals that are full of delicious things. The frequent markets in each town make buying fresh, organic and in-season foods a breeze. And I love that in a country roughly the size of Texas, there are so many regions with their own specialties and culinary history.
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