“Are you sure we can’t help you with anything?” This is a question I often hear while busying myself in my kitchen preparing a meal for friends or family. The answer is always the same, “Nope, I got it. Enjoy yourself!”
When it comes to fixing food, I prefer to work alone. There is a particular method to my cooking madness, there are plans, rules, and a sense of order (that probably only makes sense to me) so I know it will take longer to explain what someone should do than to just do it myself. Despite this personality flaw, when I tell someone “thanks, but no thanks” for their offer to help, I genuinely want them to just sit back, relax, and enjoy themselves. As my husband likes to say: food is my love language.
If there is a particular food or meal that I know you enjoy, I will do my best to replicate it the next time you come for a visit. For my dad, it’s dirty rice; for my bird dog training mentor Jonathan it’s can’t-feel-your-face-spicy pheasant or venison curry; for my in-laws it’s homemade pizza. Enjoying a plateful of favorite foods is like a giant, warm hug. Guess that’s why they are called “comfort foods”? This is just one of the reasons I was excited to have a regular recipe column in Project Upland magazine. Rossano Russo’s photos pop off the page and his recipes make preparing delicious game birds achievable for all.
When I was young, I remember watching my parents cook. My mom was always more haphazard in the kitchen, not measuring ingredients just tasting along the way until the desired result was achieved. My dad was more methodical with careful measurements. I wasn’t always interested in learning how to cook, as there were surely more important child things to do, but once I got the interest in experimenting in the kitchen, my family were always willing test subjects. I remember the first time I attempted grilled burgers. Unaware that shrinkage was a thing, my perfectly sized patties shriveled up to the size of golf balls leaving more bun than burger on the assembled plates. Within the light-hearted ribbing I (rightfully) received, my dad explained what happened and how I could improve, and I took those lessons to heart. I do believe my culinary skills have since improved.
Pre-pandemic, hosting family and friends for dinner was a regular occurrence in my house. I savored planning out an intricate meal: making to do lists, creating a timeline of when to start chopping, cooking, or serving various items. Sharing my cooking with loved ones brings me great joy. My future almost certainly consists of me being the old lady that serves up a four-course meal when a guest’s stomach rumbles.
There is also something primal about sharing a good meal with good company. Just like a bonfire on a cool fall evening after a day of hard hunting, tales of great (and goofy) bird dogs, impossible shots, or the giant grouse that got away flow easily over food shared among friends. The meals, and conversations, are made even more memorable when the shared meal consists of game from the day’s hunt. Laughter, love, and memories are to be had around the dinner table.
