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Cooking was not learned at home

Norma Najacht
Published: Thursday, November 21st, 2013

Recently Charley told me I am a good cook. We had just finished up a meal of stir-fried beef and vegetables, GAPS style. Never in all our nearly 45 years of marriage had he ever said that. I had spent most of my married life looking for recipes that taste good. 
When we went on the GAPS diet two years ago, Charley dragged his feet because he was afraid the qualily of our meals would suffer. However, the stir-fry was GAPS-friendly. I found it ironic that Charley would finally find it in his heart to tell me I’m a good cook when I’m fixing — of all things — a GAPS meal.
The next day, my mother and sister came to our house for lunch. I also fixed them a GAPS meal: chicken soup with homemade bone stock, talapia and asparagus with beurre blanc sauce, squash, homemade pickles, homemade cranberry sauce and homemade ice cream topped with homemade chocolate sauce.
When my mother left, she turned to me and said, “I don’t know where you learned to cook. You certainly didn’t learn it from me.”
I thought about that for a long time. My mother made the best pheasant I’ve ever tasted. I remember eating the delicious liver she fixed and sopping up the juices with my bread afterwards. And I still remember, as a very young child, eating soft boiled eggs with bread crumbs soaking up the runny yolks served in gaily colored egg cups. 

Recently Charley told me I am a good cook. We had just finished up a meal of stir-fried beef and vegetables, GAPS style. Never in all our nearly 45 years of marriage had he ever said that. I had spent most of my married life looking for recipes that taste good. 

When we went on the GAPS diet two years ago, Charley dragged his feet because he was afraid the qualily of our meals would suffer. However, the stir-fry was GAPS-friendly. I found it ironic that Charley would finally find it in his heart to tell me I’m a good cook when I’m fixing — of all things — a GAPS meal.

The next day, my mother and sister came to our house for lunch. I also fixed them a GAPS meal: chicken soup with homemade bone stock, talapia and asparagus with beurre blanc sauce, squash, homemade pickles, homemade cranberry sauce and homemade ice cream topped with homemade chocolate sauce.

When my mother left, she turned to me and said, “I don’t know where you learned to cook. You certainly didn’t learn it from me.”

I thought about that for a long time. My mother made the best pheasant I’ve ever tasted. I remember eating the delicious liver she fixed and sopping up the juices with my bread afterwards. And I still remember, as a very young child, eating soft boiled eggs with bread crumbs soaking up the runny yolks served in gaily colored egg cups. 

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