When I was growing up, I don’t really remember spending much time in the kitchen until I got older except for doing simple things like making hot dogs or heating something in the microwave when we finally got one. I liked the food my mom made, but I didn’t pay much attention to it beyond “mmm, this is good” or “this really isn’t my favorite meal”.
My mom cooked because we needed to eat. She’s not a big fan of food (she always said she’s be the first in line if they ever came up with a meal-in-a-tablet solution) and she’s not gung ho about cooking either, despite the fact that I enjoy what she makes. My dad was more interested in cooking and usually cooked one of the weekend meals when we were home. He also went all out if we were having company – he was the sort of person who would take the time to turn a tomato into a rose or decorate with carrot spirals.
Once I moved out I discovered that I had inherited a talent and love for cooking. I don’t make gourmet meals and although I like a nice presentation I won’t be making floral tomatoes any time soon, but I do make good food and I enjoy doing it about 90% of the time. My favorite thing to do is look at a recipe and change it to suit my own tastes (and pantry). It’s like alchemy in the kitchen.
I want Hayley (and her sister-to-be) to enjoy it too. I think cooking is one of those things you either love, like, or hate and I don’t think you can force the way you feel about it, but I want her to at least be comfortable in the kitchen and have a basic idea of what she’s doing when she lives on her own, and I figure if I make it fun now there’s a better chance that she’ll enjoy it later in life. As a result, I get her to help me in the kitchen as much as possible as long as it (obviously) doesn’t involve handling raw meat or stirring hot food on the stove.
Yesterday we spent a great deal of time in the kitchen because the weather was a bit iffy and it had poured all day Saturday so the ground was still wet anyway. First we made Cinamon muffins, which ended up being delicious. All I did was measure the ingredients and crack the egg. She handled all the adding and mixing herself. I took over again when it was time to put the batter in the muffin tins so that we wouldn’t lose half of it, and when they were done I put melted butter on top of each one while she then dipped them into a cinnamon and sugar mixture.
After I had cleaned up the bowls and whatnot that we had used (and let the oven cool down a bit), I set about making some meatballs for Sweet and Sour Meatballs. Since she can’t handle raw meat yet (because I don’t want her accidentally rubbing her eyes or sticking a finger in her mouth), she settled for watching me make them while she mimicked the motions I was making. She also found out the hard way as to what grating onions can do to your eyes and she had to run out of the kitchen with stinging eyes.
Once the meatballs were cooked, she came back in and helped me make the sauce. Again, all I had to do was measure each ingredient but she poured everything into the pot and then whisked it all together for me.
It’s fun cooking and baking with her and she really enjoys it. She’s always very proud of being such a big help to me.
(Click to enlarge)
Cinnamon muffins:
Proud of her muffins:
Being a clown and threatening to eat them before they’ve cooled down:
Ready to chow down on the meatballs:
When did she get big enough to hold a fork in one hand and a big cup of water in the other while sitting at the table? Shouldn’t she still be trying to learn to hold up her head? How has time passed so quickly?! I can’t believe she turns THREE tomorrow.
