As I've grown up, I've realized that while I thought my father was being harsh (as many teenaged girls getting disciplined think they are), or mean (again, what teenaged girl isn't sensitive to boundaries and being held accountable?), I realized that in fact my father is brilliant. He would get me (an extra appendage of his pretty much from birth onward) to help him do household chores/maintenance by making it sound like a privilege. "Ava, do you want to help me wash and wax my car?" I would eagerly help, doing an incredibly through job as I wanted him to be proud of my hard work and attention to detail. "Ava, do you want to help me mow the lawn?" I'd follow behind the bagless lawn mower raking each row into piles. I loved when he would turn the corner at the end of the row and the cut grass would shoot out and hit my ankles.
Now as an adult I can appreciate the life lessons that were instilled in me as a child, even though I was unaware of it at the time. He has always held me accountable to keep my word, to be responsible with my belongings, behavior and words. When I think of the lessons he taught me and that they were perhaps incredibly embarrassing at the time, the tools and skills I now have today as an adult were well worth the five minutes of embarrassment I may have felt as a tween.
As many kids are, I was a very picky eater. At age eight I refused to eat meatloaf my father had made, so he simply said "If you don't eat what I cook, cook for yourself." And so I did. This is to say for the next several years I survived mostly off of Annie's mac and cheese, and the occasional dish my mother would make. However, I was completely satisfied.
Around age 10 I became a vegetarian. Suffice to say the list of things I would eat was not impacted very deeply. I always loved to cook, but my repertoire was mostly limited to a handful of dishes, such as Tollhouse chocolate chip cookies and helping someone (usually my mother) cook a family/holiday meal.
As I got older, my pallet expanded a bit, in college my friends called me a "sober vegetarian" as I was known to nibble on their chicken tenders at our school's late night "bar."
I survived six weeks living in Argentina, the world's steak capitol, until I literally came face to face with the most incredible smelling barbecue. I was 21 and now expanded my pallet to being a "sober" chicken eater.
At 27, while visiting San Diego, my friend's bacon cheeseburger smelled so delicious I had to have a bite. So I did. The next day I had my first bacon cheeseburger in about 20 years.
Something I learned came from my mother's ability to handle stress gracefully. I have a very mentally demanding job that requires I be "on-brain" constantly, I work long hours and drive a lot. Throughout my career in this field I have mastered the skill of not bringing my work home with me, which is very challenging as I work work children in the mental health field. So when I would come home at the end of the day, work was left at work, but I was left exhausted, so I found myself zoning out and watching hours of mindless television, eating mostly junk.
Last year I discovered Wegman's grocery store about five minutes from my house. I've always considered myself an artist, so naturally I fell in love with the artistry that comes along with creating original dishes. I also found a sort of meditative calm in the whole process of looking for recipes for inspiration, shopping for ingredients while imagining my version of the dish, and of course, the actual cooking itself. I began to cook an elaborate dish for my roommate and myself every night. It became and continues to be part of my daily ritual. I've always been imaginative and would go so far as calling myself an artist, so what better way to combine adulting (eating healthy, learning a skill, and in my case, winding down from the stress of work without zoning out wit TV) and creativity?
And so began the indulgence into my love of cooking.
Now as an adult I can appreciate the life lessons that were instilled in me as a child, even though I was unaware of it at the time. He has always held me accountable to keep my word, to be responsible with my belongings, behavior and words. When I think of the lessons he taught me and that they were perhaps incredibly embarrassing at the time, the tools and skills I now have today as an adult were well worth the five minutes of embarrassment I may have felt as a tween.
As many kids are, I was a very picky eater. At age eight I refused to eat meatloaf my father had made, so he simply said "If you don't eat what I cook, cook for yourself." And so I did. This is to say for the next several years I survived mostly off of Annie's mac and cheese, and the occasional dish my mother would make. However, I was completely satisfied.
Around age 10 I became a vegetarian. Suffice to say the list of things I would eat was not impacted very deeply. I always loved to cook, but my repertoire was mostly limited to a handful of dishes, such as Tollhouse chocolate chip cookies and helping someone (usually my mother) cook a family/holiday meal.
As I got older, my pallet expanded a bit, in college my friends called me a "sober vegetarian" as I was known to nibble on their chicken tenders at our school's late night "bar."
I survived six weeks living in Argentina, the world's steak capitol, until I literally came face to face with the most incredible smelling barbecue. I was 21 and now expanded my pallet to being a "sober" chicken eater.
At 27, while visiting San Diego, my friend's bacon cheeseburger smelled so delicious I had to have a bite. So I did. The next day I had my first bacon cheeseburger in about 20 years.
Something I learned came from my mother's ability to handle stress gracefully. I have a very mentally demanding job that requires I be "on-brain" constantly, I work long hours and drive a lot. Throughout my career in this field I have mastered the skill of not bringing my work home with me, which is very challenging as I work work children in the mental health field. So when I would come home at the end of the day, work was left at work, but I was left exhausted, so I found myself zoning out and watching hours of mindless television, eating mostly junk.
Last year I discovered Wegman's grocery store about five minutes from my house. I've always considered myself an artist, so naturally I fell in love with the artistry that comes along with creating original dishes. I also found a sort of meditative calm in the whole process of looking for recipes for inspiration, shopping for ingredients while imagining my version of the dish, and of course, the actual cooking itself. I began to cook an elaborate dish for my roommate and myself every night. It became and continues to be part of my daily ritual. I've always been imaginative and would go so far as calling myself an artist, so what better way to combine adulting (eating healthy, learning a skill, and in my case, winding down from the stress of work without zoning out wit TV) and creativity?
And so began the indulgence into my love of cooking.
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