Tuesday, October 16, 2012
I was raised to be a bit of a foodie. My dad loves to cook and would always whip up some fantastic dish, never settling for mediocre. Whatever he made, he made it with style and the best flavors. I have been spoiled. Even after I moved out, I would still go to their house and eat whatever dish he had made, taking home leftovers and whatnot.
And then they moved to Virginia.
Since then, I don't eat so well. I eat well enough. I am not dying of scurvy or malnutrition. But. I miss high quality food. I miss a perfectly cooked steak with rosemary potatoes and steamed asparagus. I miss steamed artichokes and hollandaise. I miss chocomacamania cookies. Mushroom leek soup. Prime rib. Pulled pork sandwiches. Chile verde burritos. Barbecue wings with homemade sauce.
My dad's special touch to food.
I don't find the same relaxation in cooking as dad does, but I love high quality food. And my life is devoid enough of it now that I may throw myself into cooking just to have it back.