My mom, actually my grandmother who raised me, was an excellent cook and a true food lover. Her kitchen was typically filled with the delicious aromas of classic Louisiana cooking, but when it came to her personal tastes, she craved anything but the usual Southern fare.
Most Saturdays, you’d find us parked in front of the TV, watching PBS cooking shows and, eventually, the Food Network. She was always fascinated by new and exotic dishes. As I grew older and started learning how to cook, she encouraged me to focus on the diverse recipes we saw on TV. She often said she could teach me her style of cooking anytime, but unfortunately, that day never came. I’ve had to figure things out for myself.
She was the queen of blending scratch-made and doctored dishes. I don’t think I ever saw her make a pie crust or biscuits from scratch—not that I blame her for it. She was busy, tired, and often ill. It just goes to show how she didn’t always follow the expected path.
I wish I had learned how to make her gumbo, but I’m proud of my version. While she didn’t pass down her recipes, she did instill in me a deep passion for cooking and food. She was far more adventurous than I am, but that adventurous spirit is something I cherish and strive to embody in my own kitchen.