It's quiet in the house this morning. I played the good wife and made Tony breakfast in bed. Bryce is watching cartoons, and Samantha is passed out on the floor with her hands over her head. I am indulging in one of my favorite pastimes, watching the Food Network. It is a sick, sad addiction, and I am simply unable to break myself from it. Although, if I am honest, I have never tried. It is the ultimate escape for me. In many ways, it takes me back to the Saturdays of my childhood.
When I was little, the only place to see cooking shows was on PBS, and I think Daddy and I watched them on most Saturday afternoons. It probably started when I was nine or ten around the time Daddy started cooking. Mama was working later nights and traveling some, and , out of necessity, he had begun cooking for us on those nights. Daddy had always grilled or fried fish, but I don't remember him cooking much inside until around this time. Maybe he started watching them out of necessity, but whatever the reason I started watching with him. Nathalie DuPree, the Frugal Gourmet, and Justin Wilson all became a part of our Saturday ritual. Mama would usually fall asleep, but Daddy and I would watch intently and discuss the techniques and ingredients in detail. In those days before the Internet, one had to write down each recipe as it was cooked. Occasionally, a recipe would catch our eye, and we would do this. I remember Daddy wanting a wok or a pan based on some technique we learned from one of these television chefs. There was something artistic in the way these chefs would take beautiful ingredients and blend them to create an even more beautiful dish, and it is what I still love about Food Network now.
Right now, I am going to post this because I am getting a cold and the battery is about to die. This mama giraffe is taking a break until tomorrow. I have a scintillating Paula Deen story to share.
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