“And with our gastronomical growth will come, inevitably, knowledge and perception of a hundred other things, but mainly ourselves.”
— M.F.K. Fisher
My Mother once told me “In order to cook well you have to have a big heart”. I was twenty and didn’t cook. I wondered if mine had shrunk like The Grinch’s. I had bigger fish to fry. Now I remember Mama.
She was a superb home cook. My only claim to gastronomical fame was keeping her company in the kitchen. It amazed me at how she sliced onions, tomatoes and potatoes using a rather small, dull, paring knife.
I watched as she rolled out dough for Perogies, grated potatoes for Latkes, squeezing out the juices in a cheese cloth. There were her famous Dumplings, round, spongy, dense balls. When you bit into each one there was a taut resistance against the slightly gelatinous interior. They were boiled, then basted with brown butter, served with Goulash or Sauerkraut with Pork. The preparation for her dishes was exhausting. If I had to make it or eat it, I’d need to lie down.
There was an expert, behind my mother’s skill in the kitchen, my sister’s Czech Godmother. “Czech food is the best in the World!” my Mum exclaimed, though she herself was Polish. I did get to meet the expert Chef when she was dying (of bladder cancer), horrified to see that there was a bag attached to her where excrement would go. But the food! It was very, very good: Stuffed Cabbage, Pork and Beef Kebobs that were breaded, fried in tallow and baked. My Mother shaped her Perogies to look like dainty Seashells. Her Meatballs in a cream sauce sprinkled with Dill were marvelous.
In my 30s, in a marriage that was falling apart, I began to cook. My husband’s mother, like mine, was gifted. He loved her Spanish Rice and Chicken. So, I made it. I bought a cookbook with recipes from Railway Dining Cars from the 1920s. I needed to stop mud wrestling with my head.
As it turned out, I discovered I liked making meals and enjoyed waiting on people. I enjoyed the prep, the mess, the washing up, and a clean kitchen put to rest.
A Mother of Invention is a Necessity. You do need to have a happy heart to cook. I mended mine and finally, stepped into my own Kitchen.
Rose’s Chicken
Skin on Chicken Breasts, bone removed
Season with salt and Pepper
In a bowl, beat two eggs
In another bowl add flour
Put breadcrumbs in another
Coat the chicken breasts in the flour, dip in egg mixture, then breadcrumbs. Let Chicken rest at room temperature
Put quite a bit of butter in a frying pan, cook the chicken until it is golden.
Heat the oven to 300 degrees
Place the chicken in a baking dish. Baste each breast with sour cream. Baste it off and on, or don’t.
Enjoy!
