Hello, World, and happy National Doughnut Day!
Indeed, I didn’t know about such a glorious day, but I was lucky to have some unpublished pictures. I haven’t made any donuts for 67 days and a couple of hours. Just saying :) I’m not going to be talking about these donuts any long because it’s the time for some new revelations.
It’s always interesting to me how people start cooking. In my case, everything seems to have started all of a sudden. At least I don’t remember any attempts to cook before that significant day.
It was the end of the
1890 1980th. My mom had her leg being seriously fractured, and even though she was already at home on the way to recovery, she was still seriously limited in her movement. My father, having been a captain and being in the seas up to 8 months every year, wasn’t at home those days.
I wasn’t required to make any food. It might not have been anticipated at all – I was still quite a small boy. I guess it just meant to happen. So, one day I made either pancakes or crepes – I don’t remember what was it exactly. They might have been something in between, though. Let’s say I cooked some batter on the skillet. Also, I made some very complicated soup. It was called “Chicken and Rice Soup”. And it was the instant one, from a package. It still required reading the instructions, measuring the water, and cooking it for a while. That was definitely the moment to be proud of.
I cannot say for the next 10 years or so I had been passionate about cooking. I just loved it and enjoyed cooking once in a while. Basically, I was interested in baking cookies, and usually they were savory, cheesy or something like that. Perhaps, the most sophisticated goods I made once were the eclairs, and surprisingly they turned great. Unfortunately, they got in the trash later because my father got angry with me (with almost no reason), grabbed the plate and throw it on the floor. Well, I don’t have a lot the memories of those years, but I do remember that story. To say I was frustrated – to say nothing. Perhaps it was so because I made them especially for the mom who had been in the business trip for 3 weeks and would come back the next day.
What I remember as well that we didn’t have a lot of cookbooks. Just a few. One of them was about fancy french desserts, with the beautiful pictures and the sophisticated names. The another one, published in the USSR, in the mid of the XX century, was quite an impressive size and in bad conditions. It was rather the encyclopedia, with the historical facts, nutrition info, and pictures of food factories. My favorite recipe from that book was…green peas sautéed in butter. I wasn’t the guy with a developed palate yet. Happy years:)
Indeed, I didn’t need to think about cooking to have food – I just loved to do that. My mom used to cook scrumptious meals. Since my family had the various ethnic roots, our meals were the quintessence of Russian, Ukrainian, Poland, Georgian, Jewish, and few more cuisines.
Many years later, when I was a student and then started to live separately, I needed to cook, but during those years I kinda lost my love for cooking. It turned to be the necessity.
However, everything changed in 2005 when I met one good guy who would later become my soul mate. It’s been said the way to man’s heart is through his stomach. Honestly, I have never believed in this statement – it sounds like too simple way. But I might or might not have tried this one. There are no specific biographical facts to prove that:) Let’s say I just wanted to pamper him…okay and perhaps impressed just a bit. Who wouldn’t?!:) Anyways, I was so proud to have been indulging him with my awesome meals until that embarrassing moment I realized I had been making a few dishes over and over. That was the time for a great change…
Stay tuned – that’s going to be another chapter.
What about you, folks? How did you start cooking?
Afterwards. To be honest, it’s difficult to connect this part of revelations to this particular recipe. I think that’s not the most important part of this post though. Or let’s say these donuts are something I wouldn’t have made being a boy. Enough.