I get asked that question a lot.  Every time someone (who is not my family) finds out I baked something their first question is “Is that your mom’s recipe?”.  It’s naturally an automatic assumption to have recipes passed on from generation to generation.  It’s nice to have memories to pass on to my children that they pass on to their children and so on and so on…

My memories of my mom and me in the kitchen are so warm.  Baking and laughing and kneading dough on the counter together.  Her letting me lick the spoon after mixing a rich chocolate cake batter.  Stirring the custard on the stove while telling jokes together…just as Southern Living magazines portray it.

Just kidding.  It was nothing like that at all.  My mom was the least domestic person…ever.  We had a lot of frozen meals and she hated cooking those, too.  If I wanted breakfast before school I got up and made it myself.  And my sandwich for lunch.  Teaching independence?

However, the kitchen thing we did do together was watch Food Network every day.  After school I would come home and we’d watch Jeopardy (she could have been on that show), Gilmore Girls, and then turn it to Food Network and watch Paula Deen, Sandra Lee, and Rachael Ray.  On the weekends we’d watch The Barefoot Contessa and Giada.  She enjoyed cooking vicariously through the pros, I guess.  Or maybe she could secretly cook better?

I always enjoyed baking.  When I was little my Mom would buy cake mixes and I would bake those (on my own…”You can read directions.”) and add things to them for my own personal touch.  Family birthdays?  I made the cake.  Then, I started learning how to make things from scratch.  When I was 17 we moved to Memphis for 2.5 years and while there my Aunt sent me a card for a Level 1 Cake Decorating course at Michael’s for my birthday.  I always figured if I wanted to be legit like on Food Network I needed a Kitchen Aid mixer, so like any typical teenager used my high school graduation gift money to buy a red Kitchen Aid mixer.  (That will always be one of the best decisions I’ll ever make.  No matter how many bad decisions there will be in my life there will always be my good Kitchen Aid.)

(The next part gets a little deeper, but it’s short and has a redeeming end, so hold tight…)

After my mom passed away I stopped baking and stopped watching Food Network.  I didn’t stop on purpose.  I just woke up and didn’t want to do that anymore.  I even almost sold my Kitchen Aid mixer because it just sat on the counter for years untouched.  I never connected the dots on that either because I didn’t want to or because I didn’t understand grief.  Or both. Flash forward a few years: random fitness journey (Half marathon! I can do things!!), one deep depression, a heroic story of how Jesus rescued me (a life crisis solo trip to Ireland-that will require a few blog posts.  Crazy few growing years…) and me slowly baking again.

When I did start baking again I forgot how much I loved it.  I didn’t understand how I knew what I was doing.

My mom might not have been a domestic goddess, but all of that time spent watching Food Network together clearly did the trick because I automatically knew what things were and the importance of sifting flour and water baths.  It was like second nature.  See, TV can be educational. 😛

The older I get the more people say I am like my mom and that is one of the best things anyone can say.  She was the best kind of friend with a sharp wit and didn’t take anything from anyone.  I hope to be even 1/4 of the strong person she was, but with an apron.

…And that is the story of how my Mom taught me to cook. 😀