Written by Tam 

I grew up in the kitchen assisting my mom, a very talented cook. I can remember kneading dough, stirring big bowls of dry and wet ingredients, snapping green beans. Growing up in my home, I woke up to the scent of sugar cookie oatmeal on Saturday mornings. I knew not to ask what my mom was making for dinner, instead I’d wait patiently with anticipation.  Going out to eat was a special treat so often my mom would bring the excitement of stopping at one of the international restaurants on 4th street into our home. 

My mom loved trying different flavors from different cultures, meaning I tried a variety of different, modified recipes from friends who shared their food cultures with the woman who ran the kitchen in my home. I can recall a year where my mom almost exclusively cooked curry, most certainly creating the foundation for my insatiable love of curry now. 

I’ve always loved food and am grateful for the many different styles my family enjoyed, however working alongside a chef can be intense. 

When I moved out I stayed out of the kitchen, buying takeout for the convenience of it or surviving off of tortilla chips and applesauce - diet of champions. Since I grew up cooking, there are basics that are established in my mind: how to make a sauce from scratch, cleaning and cutting meat and vegetables, etc. 

The ability to cook was there but I lacked the desire.

When quarantine began in March of 2020, the choice to buy takeout vanished due to restaurant closures and a change in my budget. I knew that I would have to adapt to the change the best I could. Luckily I had good company in the kitchen that helped me redefine the way I move around the space. I learned to appreciate the different smells, colors, and the science of cooking in a way I hadn’t before. 

I also realized how good it felt to feed the people I care for. How loving of an act it is to provide someone with nourishment; to have taken the time to prepare something.

Not only for those I share company with but for myself. I adopted a new level of pride and I love to call upon my mom with curiosity about recipes I remember loosely from my childhood, and she will always have a thousand details to gladly offer, in return our relationship has strengthened with time.

One of those recipes is her baked macaroni and cheese recipe, a necessity at both holidays and cookouts. I’ve always been picky about the dish (as all people should be) and both of my mothers have a recipe that they’ve modified from elders that came before them. Being Black in America a great part of our cultural heritage was stripped from our ancestors, leaving gaps in our history and plenty of unanswered questions. Soul food is another example of the resilience of a community of people able to tether themselves to each other, the earth, to show a form of care for the self. While macaroni and cheese is a western classic and a simple dish to prepare, it stands out as one of the first dishes I prepared for a friendly potluck and I love having been able to share my own version. Looking forward, I feel liberated and confident to explore the beauty of food and how much love can be felt in the preparation of a plate.

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