One day, back when I was a college student, I entered the kitchen to find my grandmother looking at an uncooked turkey that sat on the counter. She looked at me and asked, with that most beautiful twinkle in her eye, “Marisa, if you were to come home to this turkey, what would you do?” Without a trace of irony I replied, “I’d put it back in the fridge.”
Nanna’s laughter made it clear that this was not the sort of answer she was seeking. She wanted to share a moment with her granddaughter, passing on culinary knowledge.
I was concerned that the family might get food poisoning if the bird stayed out too long. It didn’t occur to me to be interested in cooking anything. Even spending time with Nanna was not enough to convince me that preparing a meal was more worthwhile than reading a book.
Thing have changed. Sorta.
Ok, so I’ve never actually been solely responsible for the cooking of a turkey, but I have roasted a few chickens in my time. And tonight we might have feasted on frozen pizza and mac n’ cheese, but they were served with a side of peas and mixed greens so no one is getting scurvy here.
I read precious few books before bedtime these days, so “I’m reading!” isn’t the excuse that keeps me out of the kitchen. Admittedly, however, it’s not unusual for me to hit the freezer when I’ve got a launch coming up.
The good news is I had a Nanna who’d love me anyway. And I have a husband and kids who do too.