I’ve always been an eater.
During childhood, my mom could tell that I was *really* sick if I had no interest in food—the clearest red flag that something was not right with her child. (This is still the case, like when an intense migraine hits and my appetite disappears.) Food, to me, is joy, play, and discovery, much more than mere fuel. How some people “forget to eat” is beyond me—I go to sleep thinking about what I will have in the morning for breakfast!
I didn’t become much of a cook until after my father died. As I’ve said many times, my mother is such a kitchen wizard that I saw no need to infringe on her territory until I’d left home from college. Even then, I was too intimidated by her prowess to do much but bake, an activity she’s never much enjoyed and therefore not explored. So I learned to make cookies and layer cakes and lemon squares (sooooo many lemon squares) until I lost my dad, from whom I inherited my appetite, both for food and for life. Since then, cooking has been my way to connect with and honor him, and has become a huge part of my life and identity: food blogger, Diwali party host, person who asks if she can cook in your kitchen, recipe & cookbook junkie, etc.
And yet! Cooking has never been part of my livelihood until this year, when I took a job as house manager/chef for one of my good friends, Emilee. I’ve known Emilee since before all of our kids were born; she has two girls around Shiv’s age and they’ve all grown up together and treat each other like cousins. A single parent, Emilee juggles a lot in her role as President and CEO of the Houston Area Women’s Center and it has been a joy to partner with and support her in my natural capacities as caregiver, organizer, and cook. I get paid to grocery shop! Try new recipes! IT IS MY JOB TO MAKE FOOD AND FEED PEOPLE.
True, I have now experienced the professional hazard of coming home tired from cooking in someone else’s kitchen, with the energy leftover only for making myself a plate of cheese, sliced apples, and crackers for dinner, but I honestly can’t say that I mind. The satisfaction of providing good food for my friend and her family is incredibly rewarding.
We have family dinner once a week, on Wednesdays, and Shiv joins as often as her busy dance & theatre schedule will allow. Some Wednesdays we’ve celebrated birthdays, other weeks we’ve invited friends and extended family to join. Emilee presides over “Highs, Lows, and Grateful Fo’s,” with everyone around the table sharing a high point from the week, a low point, and something they’re grateful for—a tradition that always generates laughs along with warm fuzzies.
Wednesdays are an excuse for more-elaborate-than-weeknights-usually-call-for-dinner. Sometimes I set out a fancy charcuterie board and I almost always make dessert. One week I made two giant pots of chili, another two big pans of enchiladas. Emilee cannot tolerate gluten, which means I’ve learned a lot about GF cooking and baking in the past three months; there have been a few fails, but they are redeemed by those times when I have been able to present my friend with something that she normally isn’t able to have, like those GF cranberry-orange scones that disappeared literally overnight.
Somehow, I just never get tired of thinking about or making food. (Or eating it, for that matter!) Like my mother before me, I cook a lot by riffing and inventing, so I don’t always have recipes to share for what I make. But in the past few months, in order to up my game and to keep from falling into ruts, I also become more reliant on recipes and ideas from others. Here are a few that I highly recommend!
Gochujang-Butter-Braised Tofu (Bon Appetit) - If you’re looking for a counterpoint to heavy holiday meals, this is it. What’s more, this comes together so easily—it’s a mostly hands-off recipe that is definitely more than the sum of its parts. I made it recently and took it over to a friend’s house for a little lunch catch-up, wilting some kale into the sauce at the very end and serving with rice. Don’t keep gochujang on hand? It’s worth buying for this recipe, because I promise you’ll be making it again! (Also, gochujang is so good for stirring into fried rice, ramen, or serving with scrambled eggs.)
Roasted Delicata Squash Salad (inspiration from Two Peas and their Pod)- Confession: I had never cooked or eaten delicata squash until a few weeks ago. Now I’m obsessed with roasting and eating it, either in salads or on its own. There are endless riffs you can do with a delicata squash salad - I used the recipe linked above as a start, but used walnuts instead of candied pecans. Some kind of salty cheese like feta is great, or you could go with parmesan; dried cranberries provide a nice counterpoint, and you can also throw in some sliced apple or pear if you have it hanging around. I like roasting the squash with some wedges of red onion, which get sweet and jammy in the oven, but you do you!
Chicken and Dumplings (Alison Roman via NYT Cooking, gifted link!) - Nothing quite as satisfying on a cold night like a big pot of chicken and dumplings! I can also attest that you can easily make this recipe GF by substituting a gluten-free flour blend (I swear by King Arthur’s Measure for Measure blend) in the stew and for the dumplings. The day after making this for dinner, I got the best text message from Emilee that said “I just packed my daughter HOMEMADE CHICKEN AND DUMPLINGS for lunch and I feel like I am winning at life. So grateful for you!” As the kids say, we love to hear it.
Cranberry Orange Pecan Coffee Cake (Joy the Baker) - Looking for something to take over to a friend’s house during the festive season? Look no further. This is a long-time favorite and all-around winner. You don’t even need a stand mixer! The recipe makes two loaves, which means you can keep one and give one again, or freeze one for the new year. Fresh cranberries aren’t around for long, so I personally enjoy baking with them while I can.
Got recipes you swear by? I am ALL EARS. Send them my way, post ‘em in the comments, and I will be everlastingly grateful. Happy eating, y’all!
xoxo
Nishta