My Humble Beginnings
I guess my life has been an adventure from the start, or at least how I see it, which is what matters. I didn't take the most conventional route to connect with food. During my early years (the 70s) it wasn't cool to cook or do anything in the culinary field. My father said that it wouldn't pay enough to take care of yourself, which meant that you would end up back home living under his roof. Having a West Indian father and a mother from Arkansas, the goal was to be self-sufficient. Code for, get a skill that got you a job that got you out of the house! Listen, my house was a loving home but just didn't present that way growing up from my perspective as a child.
For me, the only true connection that resonated in the house was food. My father was a man of very few words, generally grunts and you knew exactly what he wanted or what to do. I was the middle child of four children, not the oldest, youngest, or only gender (my brother), so I competed for attention, and one could say, love. My father very rarely called me by name and constantly complained that I cried too much. But when it came to food, we somehow connected without words. He was masterful in the kitchen, and I loved the smells, the different foods and to be honest, the attention I received when I shared in his passion. It was the extra bit of love that I received that made me stand out from my siblings. It was like a dance, an unspoken connection. Over time, I learned his every kitchen need without words as he gracefully maneuvered around preparing meals. He would indirectly talk to me as he spoke to the food, the kitchen, and the ingredients. I somehow worked myself into that dance and became one with the assembly. It brought me peace, connection, and acceptance. It made me different, and I guess 'loved' in a way.
My father was a good man and family provider. Not to say he didn't have his flaws, but communication was not his strong suit. He had a challenging childhood in Trinidad, and I suspect an even more difficult adolescence, which probably contributed to his silence. But what we did have that connected us was the bond of food. He loved cooking, I loved being in the kitchen and we formed our own language of love around food. It is my earliest memories together that bonded him and I throughout the years.
Is my backstory all that necessary to get into my love of food and travel? No, it's not, but it makes me feel good to understand where I come from as a person and a culinary creative. It's who I am and how I got here, so too bad because, it is what it is!
My goal in this blog is to catalog my journeys, adventures, and experiences with food and the world. Not all will seamlessly tie into food at the onset, but it will eventually get there, as all roads lead to food and travel in my life.
Comments
Post a Comment