I have spent this morning making a crock pot version of Boeuf Bourguignon (found here, #19) - I love crock pot meals because it means dinner will be ready and the dinner clean-up will be done whether or not BB is inconsolably fussy and refusing to be put down as he sometimes is from 5 o'clock on.
I have never been a big soup or stew fan, but recently I have started to really enjoy hearty homemade soups - they go so well with brisk and rainy weather, which we've been having off and on (Arizona's version of winter), and of course, they can be made in a crock pot. Boeuf Bourguignon is basically a French beef stew, and as I was chopping the carrots and onions I remembered when my dad made a beef stew for us for dinner when I was probably 8 or 9. My dad was a self-made chef, the third oldest of 12 kids (so there were also some mom-made aspects to his chef-ery). My dad was also an artist - he made wood carvings, and when he was a head chef at a resort (after this story took place) he designed fancy weekend and holiday buffets and he translated his art into melon and even ice carvings, as well as into his recipes. For me, cooking has always felt creative and artistic and I know I get this from him.
So, the beef stew. Either he asked for my opinion or I volunteered it, I don't remember, but I said "I hate it". The look on his face! Hurt and taken aback, he said "K, I made that," to which I replied "So? You made it, I hate it." Like, what's the big deal? Now, I do think there is something to be said about the way of loving in which a statement like that can be made, meaning I did not associate his creation, or my hatred of it, with my love for him at all, and I couldn't understand why he would be so upset. My love for him was so distinct from that beef stew, and I remember feeling confused by his reaction. HOWEVER, can you imagine? His brooding artist's spirit damaged by the rejection of his creation by his own ungrateful child? I'm sure he was ready to auction me off to the first bidder!
I have been giggling about this memory all morning, while simultaneously wondering what similar stories I will have to tell about BB someday crushing my fragile ego.
I have never been a big soup or stew fan, but recently I have started to really enjoy hearty homemade soups - they go so well with brisk and rainy weather, which we've been having off and on (Arizona's version of winter), and of course, they can be made in a crock pot. Boeuf Bourguignon is basically a French beef stew, and as I was chopping the carrots and onions I remembered when my dad made a beef stew for us for dinner when I was probably 8 or 9. My dad was a self-made chef, the third oldest of 12 kids (so there were also some mom-made aspects to his chef-ery). My dad was also an artist - he made wood carvings, and when he was a head chef at a resort (after this story took place) he designed fancy weekend and holiday buffets and he translated his art into melon and even ice carvings, as well as into his recipes. For me, cooking has always felt creative and artistic and I know I get this from him.
So, the beef stew. Either he asked for my opinion or I volunteered it, I don't remember, but I said "I hate it". The look on his face! Hurt and taken aback, he said "K, I made that," to which I replied "So? You made it, I hate it." Like, what's the big deal? Now, I do think there is something to be said about the way of loving in which a statement like that can be made, meaning I did not associate his creation, or my hatred of it, with my love for him at all, and I couldn't understand why he would be so upset. My love for him was so distinct from that beef stew, and I remember feeling confused by his reaction. HOWEVER, can you imagine? His brooding artist's spirit damaged by the rejection of his creation by his own ungrateful child? I'm sure he was ready to auction me off to the first bidder!
I have been giggling about this memory all morning, while simultaneously wondering what similar stories I will have to tell about BB someday crushing my fragile ego.
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