Somewhere I read that people grieving the loss of someone crave new experiences. New travel. New food. I totally buy it. For the first time ever, I made fried chicken. Coke Brined Fried Chicken and it was totally killer.
In one of the beautiful conversations with my mom the last few months of her life, she encouraged me to go out and go to new places, do new things. She said it with such heart and I knew right then that I indeed would seek out new experiences in these months and years following her death. That it was a most true way to honor her final wishes.
The past week I pulled down a few recipe books which I've hardly touched on my shelf and decided to try new ones which spoke to me. Sitting on the deck in the sun, I flipped and read recipes and narratives. I read the stories which were in between the recipes, written by chefs. Stories of their lives, experiences with food and with upbringings. These were stories which I may have skimmed over in the past but now enjoyed.
The first recipe I searched out was a potato salad recipe. I'll admit to never making a potato salad recipe. Part of this is I know Patrick isn't a fan of mayo salad recipes, so for years I've held back knowing that he wouldn't be a fan of it. We had so much potato salad I brought a big serving to my friend Melissa. And Patrick liked it! He even had seconds. Stuey wanted absolutely nothing to do with it because he said it smelled gross. Oh well.
That same night we enjoyed grilled pizzas on the outside bbq pit. The fire, I can't get enough of it. The heat, the flames, watching it come to life. Building it up, adding to it. Good thing there has been lots of sunny weather because I'm all about firing up the coals and cooking outside.
Cooking the potatoes, flipping the pizza on the grill, mixing the fried chicken batter tonight...it all makes me smile inside. These are comfort foods, indeed. It feels so good to be cooking.
And I know my mom would be smiling down, glad for my success in finding a potato salad recipe I'll be making in the years to come.
Zoya
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