As I sit on my squishy beige couch this cold and rainy fall afternoon, I warm my hands with a mug of homemade chai. The smells and flavors remind me of the time I spent growing up with my mother and sister on Washington Avenue in New York. It's one of my very favorite flavor and scent memories; evoking feelings of sisterhood, comfort, warmth, and love.
The winter months of my childhood were filled with fragrant spices, homemade soups, and quite often, pleasant music from the Scottish Moore's. My mother is a Scotts Irish Kentucky raised beauty and one hell of a hostess. She became a trained chef when we moved from New York to Kentucky in 1995, but, has always been able to make a genuinely fabulous meal for just about any seemingly-barren refrigerator or pantry. She is 6'2, blonde, and bold...you should see her in a chef's cap!
Cooking with my mom, Chef Sandhu, Spring 2012 |
As kind hearted as she is, she can be pretty intimidating to many. This is personality characteristic I really appreciate having grown up with as a child of the 1980's; a time when many women were just only beginning to re-establish their ground in working society. She taught me integrity, and that you can do anything if you set your mind to it. She was also incredibly creative. Not only did she come up with fantastical flavor combinations, she also could create a super amazing fairy tale on the spot before bedtime. My sister and I were lucky kids.
Though, she and my father only had two children, she has always managed to make enough food for a large family. It is pretty hilarious really. We would have left overs FOR-EV-ER unless a few of our lucky friends could make it for dinner. In that case, we would usually eat whatever it is that they most wanted such as chicken parmigiana, Sponikopita, spaghetti and meatballs, Chana Saag, corned beef and cabbage, etc.