Love of food

My love of special food goes back a long way. My mother, God rest her soul, was not a cook at all. She just didn't have an interest in it especially since she had so many children to care for. A beautiful roast beef ( Sunday's lunch) would be cooked to a gray/brown death. Vegetables were out of a can and bread was Wonder, which we children would mash and roll into little balls before eating.

When recently in my hometown of Bethesda, I was amazed to see that the Farmer's Market on Wisconsin Avenue was still in business after all these years. How I begged my mother  to stop so that I could see what this place was all about. But she was usually too busy. So I never went there. Oh, I suppose I could have gone when I was older, but my interest shifted from food to boys.

Here is the old Farmer's Market looking the same as i remember:

I believe my culinary interest came from my father and his mother. My grandmother could cook anything and everything. She made everything from scratch as was necessary in the old days. And she grew most of her produce.

She made the best fried chicken, mashed potatoes, watermelon pickles (yes, she used the rind so it didn't go to waste.) and pies. She even made donuts every once in a while.

My father's tastes ran more in what we call "gourmet" now. I remember going with him to the fish market downtown to purchase all kinds of seafood for a French soup/stew called "Bouillabaisse". We got home and i helped prepare this recipe with him. He loved the finished product but it was too rich and strange for my tastes at the age of 12 years. Maybe i should find out and make it again. Now that is a thought that makes me smile.