Guest blog: It all started with Grilled Cheese

La Calavera notes it has been a while since a posting – but reading Franklin’s posts on dinner most nights got me thinking how much I too love to cook (and how ridiculously much I think about it, even though I am decidedly not a foodie). He thinks about it too, so I asked him to write about how he thinks about cooking. I expect more installments – thank you Franklin!

Some people love to cook, others cook out of necessity, and some want nothing to do with it.

I love to cook.

As a child, I often stayed with my grandmother in Kansas. Omi (a German nick name for grandmother) believed in breakfast. At the beginning of one summer visit, I wasn't waking up hungry and ready for breakfast. She knew I loved grilled cheese sandwiches, so she would get one started on the griddle, then go wake me up. My bedroom was close to the kitchen, so I could smell it cooking. I remember groggily sitting at the table and a plate with a grilled cheese, sliced on the diagonal, was slid in from ofme, with its toasty, buttery, cheesy, steamy vapors eliciting just about the only response capable to a six year old. I picked it up, and crunched my teeth through the crispy brown crust, bit through the corner, and chomped away on the hot, silky cheese interior.

I think it only took two days and I was waking up hungry. Eventually, she weaned me off the grilled cheese and I was eating whatever she had cooked. Pavlov had nothing on Omi, she'd had five kids and a grandson – he only had his dogs.

So, my beloved grilled cheese was the first thing I learned to cook. I don't remember exactly when, but it was around first or second grade. The secret to the perfectly toasted grilled cheese is the size of the fire. Omi showed me how to turn on the stove, and with the griddle in place, she had me adjust the flame until the blue flame was above the edge of the burner: “Just so.” And I remember this each time I tweak the fire, in the same way, bending over and adjusting the flame “just so”. I still love grilled cheeses, and they are best at breakfast. Gouda, Muenster, or Imported Cheddar which is only made under the light of a full moon and schlepped to town by a donkey drawn wagon… all will make a very nice grilled cheese, and I've eaten some very exotic combinations,  but my taste buds were corrupted on this topic in my youth (Foodies and Food Nazis jump to the next paragraph) and the two best cheese-like products are American Cheese or, horror of all culinary sins, Velveeta (which if you actually read the ingredient list, has nothing bad except the reputation).

A recent dinner: Franklin’s Braised Beef Short Rib on smashed potatoes,

cauliflower with browned butter, black pepper, and parsley. He didn't strain and make fancy sauce: “I love the carrots and garlic cloves.”

In my grade school years, my mother was ill and was often in the hospital, so I was on my own. My father's idea of cooking was buying this new product called Hamburger Helper, or we ate out. Thankfully, we ate out often, and frequently went to very good restaurants, so my palette was exposed to some excellent food. Lobster Thermidor and Duck a l'Orange were not what most kids were eating.

I also started watching Julia Child. Then, I met two United Airlines stewardesses. Terri taught me how to make Sweet and Sour Pork (and layered candles using L'eggs pantyhose containers). Marie Ann, a crazy Dutch woman, taught me how to make Beef Stroganoff,the classic way, except we had to use sour cream because she could only get crème fraiche in Europe (this was the early-mid 1970's). So, I cooked these for dinner a few times and found cooking was easy. So, armed with hints from Julia, and a bit of experience under my belt, I started reading cook books and cooking various recipes.

Perhaps later, I can tell about some of my successes and a spectacular failure that ripped the seasoning out of a wok, and why I did not become a chef.

We are hoping for future installments! Thanks Franklin!