The Art of Cooking

I walk into the kitchen and my nose is suddenly filled with the overpowering smell of pesto. There are multiple pans being heated on the small gas stove in front of me. I tune into the French cafe music playing from the speakers overhead. My mom is doing what appears to be ten things at once, the dishes, answering emails, and occasionally remembering to stir the pasta that is boiling over. This is an experience that I have come to know so well.

Growing up as an only child has been a unique experience for me. Although many people would assume that it brings a child closer to their parents, I have found it to do the opposite. Without any siblings, I have been forced to spend more time at my friend’s houses than in my own home. Family activities usually entail bringing a friend along, whether it be traveling to another country or simply going out for dinner. My parents have always welcomed each and every one of my friends into my family, which has worked for and against my benefit. For this reason I believe that I am not as close with my parents. As I’ve gotten older, I have learned to recognize this and better identify the reasons why things are the way they are. Recently, I have gone out of my way to bond with my mom, desperately attempting to rekindle our lacking relationship. Cooking pesto pasta with my mom allows me to create new memories with her. Regardless of how the dish tastes, it is special to me because of the quality time I get to share with my mom. It is the time we spend in the kitchen that gives us a chance to bond, an opportunity that is otherwise hard to come by.

My mom’s cooking has taught me to like things that I am not sure if I actually like. She is by no means a candidate for Top Chef, however she gets the job done to the best of her ability. Her pesto pasta is a cheap and easy meal that requires a two second trip to the grocery store and 20 minutes to throw together. The dish allows my mom to try out new variations, and it never quite tastes the same. All sorts of meats and vegetables can be included, ranging from broccoli to chicken, and sometimes even different cheeses and seasonings. When our supply of veggies and meat is running low in the house, the dish can be made with just two main ingredients, pesto and pasta. I enjoy not knowing what exactly is going to be served on my plate. I feel as though my taste buds must adapt to whatever mixture of food enters my mouth. I am not able to anticipate the flavors of the dish because I have the privilege of experiencing new ones every time the dish is made.

Curious about the background and history of the meal, I spoke briefly with my mom on the phone. I asked her what the dish meant to her. She replied by saying, ““It is a quick, easy, and tasty meal… Something I can prepare quickly, especially after coming home from work.” Her response did not come as a big surprise to me. My mom works 50 hour weeks and takes little time for herself. On top of that, cooking is certainly not her idea of a fun activity to do in her freetime. For these reasons I was not shocked when she described the meal as “quick” and “easy”. Since she did not seem overwhelmingly enthusiastic about the meal, I asked her what her favorite meal is and why. She responded, “Chicken piccata is my favorite meal. I like the blend of capers and chicken, and I like that it is served over pasta. I just don’t make it very often because no one in the family likes it.” Once again, I was not surprised. My mom is one of the most selfless people I have ever met. She would never make a meal if no one else liked it.

As I delved deeper into more questions, I asked my mom why she thought that I liked her pesto pasta. Not to mention, I was curious how she got the idea that I didn’t like chicken piccata. She told me, “Because you like pesto and broccoli… You like the key ingredients, although you’re not really a pasta eater.” Now I was really surprised. I have eaten pasta for my whole life and given her no complaints about it. Upon reflection, I believe this idea might correlate with the fact that was do not have the strongest relationship. My mom is in some ways unaware of my simple likes and dislikes, such as pasta. So I said, “Then how did you decide on the recipe and the ingredients that make up the meal?” My mom spoke defensively, “They are ingredients that I often have on hand. It’s easy and not awful for you.” I nodded in agreement. She’s certainly right about it being an easy recipe and she has always been a big promoter of healthy eating.

I have grown up eating my mom’s pesto pasta and recently I’ve wanted to learn how to make it myself. Before I left for school, my mom taught me how to prepare the dish. Although the recipe is straightforward, and I could have figured it out on my own, it was an experience that I will never forget. We began by mixing together broccoli and chicken. The noodles were cooked separately and the pesto was added afterward. This was essentially the entirety of the process. However, this is not what I took away from cooking with her. I took away the memory of picking songs to sing to while chopping vegetables. I watched my mom run to the stove yelling when she didn’t hear the timer beep and the pasta boiled over, a recurring theme of her cooking. I gained a stronger bond with my mom, someone who I do not regularly spend much time with. We performed an activity together that neither of us love to do, but we turned it into an experience that I will never forget. This is what cooking is really about. It is more than just a burden that needs to be overcome in order to put food on the table every night. Cooking provides an opportunity to spend one last night with someone before going off to college. It creates a chance to form a stronger relationship.

Upon my return home from Bucknell University last semester, I asked my mom if we could give the dish another go. The experiences I had at school really changed my outlook on the value of family. I specifically made the realization that I need to cherish the existing connections that I have with people in my life because finding people to relate to is no easy feat. Being away also opened my eyes to how much support my parents give me. I went into the kitchen, this time, with a new perspective and gained respect for my mom and the relationship that I have been working to build with her. I found that the little things came easier. I didn’t feel annoyed with her unique cooking style of paying very little attention to the food cooking in the pot. I anticipated it happening and chuckled silently when she once again missed the timer. Being away and then having this experience all over again with my mom made me learn to love the things that used to bother me.

Cooking with someone is an experience that should not be taken for granted. As my mom and I have learned, the quality of the end product really does not matter. What matters most are the memories made in the kitchen. For example, dancing around and having a good time. Food will always be there as long as the ingredients and time are available as well. My mom’s pesto pasta will always hold a special place in my heart. But this is not because of the contents of the dish. Pesto pasta is my favorite meal because of the memories that I have created, along with its ability to bring my mom and I closer together. Cooking the meal just provided me with the chance to have those experiences.