Lauren Groveman, our food writer, discusses her journey to becoming
a great cook and shares her recipes for perfect roast chicken, mushroom shallot
gravy, and garlic roast potatoes with rosemary and thyme.
She is the author of
'Lauren
Groveman's Kitchen: Nurturing Food for Family & Friends.' She is
also a contributor to
'Baking
With Julia' a cookbook written by Julia Child. Write
Lauren at
l.groveman@worldnet.att.net or
http://www.LaurenGroveman.com.
I'd like to introduce myself to you. My name is Lauren Groveman
and I'm a happily married woman with three children. I'm also a professional
cooking teacher, cookbook author and food writer for national "foodie"
magazines.
In this column, called "Food Matters," we are (together) going to
explore the definition, concept and practice of shared meals as a family
tradition.
I'm going to ask you to share with me your thoughts, perceived
limitations and perpetual frustrations in your kitchen, and at your
table.
My hope is to dispel your misconceptions. I also want to help you
feel better about your nurturing capability and your creative spirit while
giving you an easily accessible "at home" form of recreation. I'm talking
about cooking and baking. (And the best part...everyone loves you for
it!)
To start, I'm going to share with you my family background, for
a number of reasons. First, because most people who are familiar with my
work and philosophy, assume that I've simply absorbed my craft in the most
loving of ways--from either my mother or grandmother. (I'm sorry to say,
this is far from the truth.)
Second, because I'm going to be asking you to share with me who
you are and, even more important, who you would like to be at home, with
your family and friends.
My hope is to gain your trust. To assure you that, even the most
educated, sophisticated people, can (and should) make more room to explore
their softer, more nurturing side. I believe in my heart that doing this
will fortify anyone's life--both personally and professionally. To me, that
is what the new millennium should be about. About being the most we can be,
for ourselves and for our children.
In the coming months we are going to define and then redefine the
concept of "tradition." My hope is to encourage you to let go of any stereotypic
pre-conclusions. Hopefully, after some self-exploration and reading about
the feelings and experiences of others, you will allow yourself to simply
begin.
Begin to have the home you've always wanted.
To embrace your own unique sense of "family ritual" that will provide
you and those closest to you, with real comfort. Simply put, tradition can
(and sometimes must) begin with you.
So, I grew up in Long Island, New York in a typically dysfunctional
60's family. My mother was burning her bra while my father was hell-bent
on building a successful business in the garment center. As eager participants
in the "ME generation," both of my parents were self-absorbed in their quest
to strengthen their self-esteem (as individuals) while working hard to keep
their marriage together.
I grew up with two older brothers whom I loved (and still love)
very much. My mother was rarely home and almost never cooked. Our cupboards
were always lined with a vast array of canned vegetables, packaged cookies
and chips. Our freezer was filled an assortment of the newest convenience
products. We had a large round (formidable looking) housekeeper named "Mabel"
whose job included cooking simple foods, that I found soothing.
I remember vividly each afternoon, crossing the threshold of my
split-level home, after a long day at school. Although weary, my excitement
grew as I approached the front door, eager to feel the aroma of one of the
many savory goodies that Mabel had in store for our dinner. Crisp fried chicken
one night, meatballs and spaghetti another, chicken cutlets draped in a pool
of jarred marinara sauce, covered with a blanket of gooey mozzarella cheese,
the next.
I would enter the house, drop my briefcase on the floor and march
directly into the kitchen to see what was cooking. Although as a child, I
was glad that someone regularly prepared satisfying food for my brothers
and me, I always knew that when I grew up, I wanted to be the one who provided
that sense of safety and "deliciousness" to my children.
I wanted to live in a warm, wonderful home, filled with soothing
aromas and great tastes. I wanted it consistently. I didn't only want these
things for my children, but I also wanted these things for my own personal
sense of healing. But, I didn't have a clue how to cook. I was also very
driven to have a self-fulfilling career. (I was of course, my mother's
daughter.)
My parents would usually eat after my brothers and me. To be honest,
those were the "good nights" because my parents rarely would include us in
their banter and really preferred us to be quiet. So, when my brothers and
I ate alone (together), we had a wonderful time, talking, laughing and sharing.
More important to good food was (to me) to be able to grow up and live in
a home that was open, both verbally and emotionally.
I wanted to sit at a table with my children and husband and really
look at each other. I wanted to hear what my kids had to say. To let them
know that I respected them and their thoughts and that I truly enjoyed their
company. I wanted them to know (and trust) that the most valuable part of
my entire day was the eventual connection with them at dinnertime. That's
what I didn't have while growing up in Long Island.
That's what I have today, while raising my family in Westchester,
New York. I simply made cooking, baking, great aroma and (ultimately) shared
meals, a priority in my lifestyle. It worked.
I'm happy at home, creatively and professionally fulfilled, and
my three children, who depend on me for their sense of self, know and trust
that they are of great value to their world.
Now, learning to cook wasn't always easy and finding the time to
make it all "fit" was (and still is) definitely a challenge. But, the journey
from being a so-so cook to becoming a great cook was very delicious and always
rewarding. The point is, that although as a child, I didn't live in a home
that showered me with all that "good stuff" that I secretly longed for, I
am (as an adult), still able to provide it for myself and those I love. I'm
not talking about being perfect.
Please, let go of the quest for "perfection" which, is subjective
and (inevitably) self-defeating. There is not one "right way" to incorporate
family meal time into your lifestyle.
Look inward and ask yourself (and your family) what can
realistically"fit."
I'm also not suggesting that you need to make your own wall paper,
candles or wrapping paper. Having a wonderful home does not require you to
stencil the floors, purchase antiques or change the color of your bathroom
to a warm shade of honeydew. You do not need expensive "things" to create
a memorable "delicious" home. All you have to do is make cooking foods that
smell great, shared meals, talking and listening a priority. I did, and so
can you.
Practice shared meals as many times per week (or month) that you
can maintain on a regular basis. Adults and children alike, find great comfort
in consistency. It's better to eat together happily and lovingly (and
consistently) once per week, then to do it more often, feeling put out, exhausted
and unappreciated, which would make you more apt to let go of mealtime all
together.
Now that you know about me, I'd like to know more about you. Please
share with me your culinary triumphs as well as your disasters. I want to
learn about your feelings and concerns about just how to go about making
more "shared meals" fit into your lifestyle. I also want to hear from single
people who don't feel motivated to cook nourishing meals for themselves on
a regular basis. I'd like to learn more about your hopes, fears and frustrations
when trying to stay connected to those you're closest to. Providing help
to you is not only my job, it's truly my joy. I'm here for you.
'To
order 'Lauren Groveman's Kitchen: Nurturing Food for Family & Friends,
click on this link.' |
