Well, I learned to cook from my mother who was a cook for a well-to-do family before she was married.  My mother was born in Canada and thankfully brought recipes with her when she relocated to New York State.  She was well known for her Christmas cookies (Aunt Mary’s cookies) and her fruitcake.  She was often called upon to make a fruitcake or groom’s cake as the Canadians called it for wedding receptions.  Because my mother suffered from Parkinson’s disease my sister, brother and I helped in the kitchen from an early age.  Due to the fact that we had boarders we often had a big pot of vegetable soup, beef stew or macaroni and cheese, dishes that would feed a table full.  Every Saturday evening my father would cook a roast of beef for Sunday’s dinner.  The wonderful aroma of beef and garlic would drift from the kitchen throughout the first floor.  The task of making sandwiches for the boarders’ lunches often fell to me.  I can still remember making egg salad sandwiches with a little added mustard to make them look more yellow. 

Years later my husband and I also had a table full.  Besides our five children we had three foster children and for twenty-one years we had children, usually three, from the New York City area through the Fresh Air Fund.  In addition, one of my husband’s nephews stayed with us summers while attending college and another lived with us for approximately a year and a half after graduating from high school.  That particular young man brought a friend with him only to be joined by another friend three months later.  So, that summer we had seventeen sitting down to meals.  As a result, we ate supper in two sittings.  We had an extra long table with benches made by my husband.  Harkening back to my childhood we ate food served from a large bowl, usually the large yellow Pyrex mixing bowl.  Favorites were ground beef with onions and gravy mixed together with mashed potatoes, chili, Spanish rice, and beef stew.  The four teenage boys only liked one vegetable, corn, and one flavor cake, chocolate.  To this day, my oldest daughter remembers the nightly appearance of the yellow bowl and has asked that it be willed to her along with the large metal serving spoon.  My husband had found construction jobs for the young men and I made their lunches.  If I had to do it over, I would have them pack their own brown bags.

Fast forward—we are in another large home, everyone has moved on or at least I thought they had.  Our youngest daughter just moved back in.  I am now a diabetic and have to watch my diet and my husband is recovering from emergency quadruple by-pass surgery with all its food restrictions.  We met with a nutritionist last week to map out a plan for healthier eating.  Low calorie, fat free and cholesterol free are now part of our daily vocabulary.  So once again the learning process begins.