The Underappreciated Chef

Okay, I bet this is a common theme, loyal readers, so Gourmand Girl has a question. Do you often feel disappointed by the reactions to your meals?

I feel this way most often at the holidays. I have spent weeks planning the meal, shopping for elusive ingredients, doing hours of prep cooking then even more hours cooking the meal itself. Then everyone sits down to the feast, eats it in like ten minutes, says thanks and leaves. You then spend the next hour crying into the sink as you wash the dirty dishes, vowing that you will never again waste your time and talents again making homemade turkey stock for gravy for a bunch of ingrates.

Don't get me wrong, I don't expect a Nobel prize for my cooking, and most of the time the best accolade a cook can hope for is to see people take seconds, or third helpings and stuff themselves silly (although a round of applause occasionally would be nice.) But sometimes it seems like it's hardly worth the effort.

I never understood this when I was a child, but children by nature are profoundly ungrateful. I remember once when I was little my mother spent an entire day making crepes. She made multiple fillings, mountains of crepes and presented it to up in high fashion. My father ate one bite and turned to her to ask, in a most unflattering way, "Is there paprika in this? I don't like paprika." Tired, frustrated and angry after her long day in the kitchen, my mother replied "Then don't eat it!" and proceeded to slam her tiny fist down into the middle of the crepe, sending filling flying out the ends. My brother and I looked at one another and quietly put our heads down and determinedly ate our crepes. I don't remember what the crepes tasted like but I do remember that I was determined to eat them no matter what because I didn't want to upset my mother. She is a small woman known for her saint-like patience (the Dali Lama has been known to admire her abilities) and it takes a great deal for her to get truly upset, but in the case of cooking, one little crepe set her off.

Of course, now I know why that crepe was so important. It wasn't about the food at all but the fact that my mother was trying to express her love for her family. She worked all day. She wanted everything to be perfect. And she wanted us to express our love for her by loving the food. Last night I did the same thing. I made a casserole, salad, broccoli and french bread, specifically catered to the tastes of my brother. I choose those things to say, "Hey, Bro, I love you so I made foods that you enjoy". So when he picked at the casserole and didn't even try the broccoli, my feelings were hurt. I wish he had said, "Hey, I didn't like the way the broccoli smelled while cooking and the casserole isn't my thing but I love you, thanks for trying." I wouldn't have felt so upset. But when I mentioned that he hadn't tried the broccoli, he got mad which made me mad and while I didn't throw broccoli at him (I know that's what you were hoping for) I did have to leave the room for a while to cool down. Because my feelings were hurt. Not because he rejected the broccoli but because by rejecting the broccoli he was rejecting me. It sounds so silly as I write this but I know some of you loyal readers will understand.

There are people out there for whom food is just a way to fuel their bodies. They cannot see food as anything other than a necessity. But for those of us devoted to food it is something else. It is a way to nourish our souls, express our creativity, expand our lives and show the world how much we care. Food is a metaphor for many things. And to have that food be unappreciated can be a blow that others don't even know they are inflicting. So when a meal is good, give it a little praise. Or a lot of praise. When it's not so good, give the cook a hug. Because even the simplest home cooked meal took thought and preparation and love. And it wouldn't kill you to try the broccoli.