Anyone who knows me knows I love to eat. I’ve even gone so far as to create an Instagram account dedicated to food (shameless publicity: @whatscookinggoodlookingg…toss it a follow). It’s sort of a shrine to all the delicious meals I’ve enjoyed.
For as long as I have remembered, food has always played a role in my life. Oftentimes, after a long day at school, when I opened my front door, I would be enveloped in the smell of garlic wafting through the house. I’m so glad I was blessed with a mother who loves to cook. She’d make sure my family had a home cooked meal on the table, where we would all gather to talk about our days. This held true on the weekend too. Every Sunday my extended family would sit down and eat dinner together. Hands would tangle between one another passing around what seemed like an endless amount of food. I loved the feeling of looking up from a plate filled to the brim with pasta and meatballs, to see everyone I loved sitting around me.
Food signifies tradition, too. On certain holidays we eat special treats and that’s the one time of year I’ll get to have that certain food. On Easter, I look forward to eating pizzagaina. It’s sort of like a massive Easter pie, complete with two crusts stuffed with various Italian meats and cheeses, topped off with a flaky pastry crust. It’s a cold-cut lover’s heaven.
I’ve grown to appreciate watching how food is made. At the grill, my dad takes complete charge flipping burgers, and sizzling steaks. Anytime my mom cooks, it’s done a very specific way, ensuring that the finished product will be perfect. They are proud of the food they cook. The recipes my mom uses came from her mother and being able to continue to cook these same foods is a tribute to her family. I feel like I’m apart of something special as I watch my mom taste test a sauce or see her fingers pinch the dough just the right way in order to make the crust for a ricotta pie. One day, I know my sisters and I are going to do the same for our family, we only hope we’ll be able to cook half as well as our mom does.
Sitting in the kitchen just watching the dynamic of preparing a meal makes me happy. I love watching my mom bustle around the kitchen with my aunts and uncles trying to lend a hand. A lot of times there’s music playing my cousins and I will be sitting around the kitchen island trying to sneak a taste of something.
If I take a step back and look, I see the dysfunctional setting and smile. Ingredients simmer on the stove and the steam lingers in the air, tangling with the voices that fill the room. Even while being away from home food still has the same impact. Food brings people together and that’s why I love it. When I am sitting at a restaurant I could be starving waiting for my food, but when I look up from my plate and see the people around me, even though I haven’t eaten yet, I feel full.
