Food Rules

In the New York Times there is a blog article by Michael Pollen - Michael Pollan Wants Your Food Rules - Well Blog - NYTimes.com. I'm not sure this article is accessible to the general public but suffice it to say that Mr. Pollen – author of Omnivore's Dilemma – is collecting the cultural and familial stories (rules) that were passed down to you from your parents and grandparents.

He's getting a lot of comments that talk about navigating today's food market but that's not what he's looking for. It made me stop and think – what rules did pass down to me?

1. Even the simplest and cheapest of prepared meals can be a celebration.
   

   My mother's family was poor in money but not in spirit. There was (and is) a large extended family that traveled west together, settled in the same towns together, picked apples and built roads together. They also cooked together. Incredible cooks who made Sunday night at Grandma's events that my mother still remembers to this day. I have similar memories with my own grandmother. I didn't matter if she was frying bologna and cut grapefruit – each part of the meal would be served on its own special plate. The butter always had a dish and the milk had a carafe. My mother had the same knack for transforming the ordinary meal into an event. Whether it was the fact that we always ate dinner together without a TV – homecooked meals that she prepared without a lot of fuss – or the gatherings of family for any event – birthdays, holidays, camping, I always felt the degree of pride and care that was taken to prepare the food.
   

2. I learned from my family that the only way to control what goes in your mouth – is to be the one who made it.
   

   We rarely ate out as children. I never tasted better food than what was made in the kitchens of my family. My mother's macaroni and cheese – such a simple recipe of cheese, eggs, milk and pasta – has never been surpassed by any box or restaurant concoction. Cream doesn't make it better; gruyere cheese does not make it better: it simply is because it was made simply and with love.
   

3. Which leads me to my last point: I grew up eating basic, wholesome foods. Vegetables were often fresh from the back yard garden and I spent many a summer day eating apples, tangerines, oranges, peaches, plums and pomegranates right off the trees. Yes, I grew up in Southern California where the tomatoes naturally ripened on the vine and the corn always grew tall and straight. We ate seasonally and did not have grapes from Chile in February. We rarely ate ethnic food – it just wasn't as available and, like I said, we rarely ate out. My mother instilled in me the craving for a homecooked meal. It was a tradition that I yearned for when it didn't happen. I didn't care that much about variety – what I had come to love was the simple meal that we all sat down around. It was the only time of the day that I really saw my father or heard what was going on in the world that was larger than mine. The fact is – we ate together; we ate meals prepared with love; meals that you could probably list the ingredients for on one hand.
   

All of this, I believe, is the legacy of the pioneer families that brought both of my parents families west. These were large family groups that prized being with each other and found in a shared meal a reason to celebrate another day's labor. Coming west, farming and growing food, I believe gave us a taste for the freshest and best. Butter freshly churned or tomatoes still warm from the sun. Most of my mother's family still cooks in ways that make my cholesterol sing – but I've tempered that and found other ways to enjoy what is fresh. The best part, however, of this legacy is that I have spent 22 years putting a meal on the table to share with those I love. And this certainly includes the meals that I have lovingly prepared just for myself.