If you read my previous blog, you'll know that I not only have a soft spot in my heart for food, culture, cuisine and all things Charleston, (eh, except the smell of Market Street in the summertime) but I also love music. To me a lifetime of memories can be born if you incorporate any of the above mentioned. In fact, maybe that is how my love for food began....
Dinner with white glove service?
Don't jump to any conclusions just yet. I'm not talking about 5 star eateries or James Beard Award Winning Chef's kitchens. I'm referring to the little white glove on the box of Hamburger Helper. How does a self-proclaimed foodie even utter those words, you may ask?? Plain and simple. It was not a fondness of these pre-packaged meals that lead me to the land of Chef whites and rubber Berkies ...no...no. It was absolute hatred. My Dad was great at many things, but cooking for two picky kids... not so much! He was great at making sure my brother and I were well fed, it just wasn't the lunch or dinner that we always desired. Fast forward 20 years, and I will proudly boast that my Dad made the most unforgettable hashbrowns at Christmas last year. I am still trying to re-create the perfectly crisp and seasoned potatoes months later.
My interest in cooking began at a very young age. In fact, I remember when my Mom bought me my first cookbook. It had a set of hard plastic measuring spoons and was filled with kid-friendly recipes. My favorite was the chili con carne. This book has survived several moves, greasy fingers and a run in with a blender, full of orange-pineapple smoothies. This book will eventually be passed on to my daughter and hopefully to her children. Most people inherit antique furniture, but my daughter will be the proud owner of a sticky cookbook circa 1987. This cookbook holds so much of my childhood within its stained and grimy pages. This cookbook is a link to some of my first culinary experiences with my Mom. There were several years in my childhood filled with weekends baking and candymaking at the holidays. Mom always made the best Buckeyes. As a young child, I would present a bright decorative tin of Buckeyes to my Grandpa on Christmas. It was a special gift that I knew he would enjoy. His face would light up with excitement when he spotted the tin filled with creamy peanut butter balls dipped in a thick layer of chocolate. Being from Ohio, we of course refer to the candies as Buckeyes. I later found out that outside of the Buckeye State, they were simply known as Peanut Butter Balls. None the less, the holidays wouldn't be the same without an extra special treat for the extra special people in my life.
Now that we are on the topic of peanut butter, that reminds me of my favorite sandwich growing up - PB & H. Simply put, I don't particularly care for jam. Call me crazy, but I don't like the overly sweetened, calorie laden and artificially flavored jams found at the supermarket. I would much rather make a Peanut butter and honey sandwich. Ok, so perhaps it is equally as sweet the traditional PB &J, but the flavors are more suitable to my pallet. I used to have another favorite sandwich growing up. My brother and I were co-creators of The Reese Cup sandwich! Yes, at a very young age, my brother and I were able to turn our favorite candy bar into an acceptable lunch, or so we thought. A little Jif and Hershey's syrup slathered between two pieces of fluffy Wonder bread...ahhh, heaven. The thought of consuming such a sandwich as an adult, makes my stomach churn. We might have bickered throughout the day and I'm sure I annoyed my older brother to no end, but we bonded over our gooey sandwiches.
I previously put my Dad through the wringer in regards to his cooking abilities; however, he was influential in another aspect of my life that is equally important in my story. My Dad thoroughly enjoys music. Whether it was a day working around the house or a Saturday afternoon drive on the back roads of Ohio, my Dad always was listening to music. Lynyrd Skynyrd, Eric Clapton, Candy Dulfer or Widespread Panic, my Dad's music collection spanned several decades and genres. On a family vacation to Florida, everyone in the car had memorized Mötley Crue's Dr. Feelgood album by the time we reached the sandy beaches of Clearwater. That very same trip, we ate lunch at a restaurant that seemed to be constructed of white marble and floor to ceiling windows that exposed the crystal blue sky. I think that was my first fine dining experience, complete with sliver, china and white linen table cloths. The remainder of the trip continued as most would expect, days at the beach building sandcastles, tending to sunburned noses, trips to the local t-shirt shop for bags filled to the brim with souvenirs and lots of laughter.
It doesn't really matter how or why I got my start in the world of culinary bliss. What is most important to me is that I've had an entire team in my corner rooting for me the entire time. Without my family, I wouldn't be where I'm at today. There have been changes to our motley crew along the way, but our love and support for one another is what gets us through the good, bad and ugly. When all else fails, just eat a Buckeye!!!
Buckeye Recipe from Joy of Baking
Today I'm listening to Pandora Radio. Ironically, it is playing several songs reminiscent of my childhood. Here's a peak of my musical inspiration for today's post:
*The Allman Brothers Band - Ain't Wastin' Time
*Eric Clapton - Layla
*Jimi Hendrix - All Along the Watchtower
*Van Morrison - Jackie Wilson Said
*Stevie Ray Vaughan - Tightrope
*REO Speedwagon - Time for Me to Fly
