Food and Fall

Since an early age, I've not been able to escape food. Both of my parents were very proud of their cultural backgrounds and luckily for me, they were both great cooks. My mother was from the southern part of Georgia and utilized her mother's southern cooking with her father's Sicilian background. She made delicious sauces. She liked to feed us different cuisines. She made what my little brother called "Mom's Best Chicken." Every time it was the best. Every time, it surpassed her former best. Top chicken.

My father was from Lafayette, Louisiana but you wouldn't guess it from the accent. He lost that a long time ago when he was stationed in Georgia for the Air Force. As far back as I can remember, cold months always marked the beginning of gumbo season. Like many family recipes my father never wrote it down-- ours was all from memory. I still have a small pock mark on my thumb from the day I asked him to teach me how to make it. While quickly stirring flour and butter with a wooden spoon to make roux, I couldn't keep up and one renegade clump of flour bounced out of the stock pot and landed on my thumb. My battle scar serves as a reminder of that day: traditional Cajun mirepoix combined with stock, chicken and andouille sausage and the amazing smells that came from cooking it down for hours to perfection. It's all in my head now.

I learned other secrets like the importance of checking the weather if you want to make pralines (you can't make on a day where it might rain) and that ground sassafras leaves thicken a stock. I like to think my genes have provided me with the palette to handle the heat, have helped me know how to season properly and appreciate the taste of butter. But maybe that's just silly. Maybe I just love food.

I'm reflecting gumbo season since today marks the beginning of Fall. Fall always brings on a certain nostalgia. The juxtaposition of the beginning and the end of things. The start of the school year, fresh with possibilities. The change of clothing trends, color schemes, leaves, flowers dying, rainy days. It's the mixed emotions that come from the beginning and the end, the memory of town fairs, Halloween parades, candied apples and art festivals that makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Perhaps that's the reason Fall is my favorite season. And the food. Fall food is arguably the best.

So, cheers to the new season. I'm ready to eat.