HOT JAMBALAYA

Paul is married to Indra. If you don't know who Indra is, read my last post.

Paul is a trained chef.

Paul is Heavy P (a darling name my sister and I gave him)

Paul is my Dad.

When I was a kid, Paul was strict and feared by all. He was tough but fair, rough around the edges but technically flawless in the kitchen. 

Heavy P taught me how to cook- LEGIT. 

He never takes short cuts, he always does things the proper way (often the long way) and has yet to teach me how to handle a knife. 

Once, my Dad told me:

 "you could never cook in a kitchen. You're too slow." 

I wasn't hurt but I was almost determined to show him up. I started paying attention to kitchens and the staff working them. I sided with him. Shit, I am slow in the kitchen and I'm not up for this. Scratch working in a kitchen off my list of careers. 

Foodie it will be.

He also inspired me to share my cooking and recipes on Instagram: 

www.instagram.com/dailyrecipegram 

Take a peek, get inspired.

Since becoming a foodie, Heavy P has always been there to explain to me why some of the "flighty" recipes I find don't work as I plan and has shown me why the proper way is the right way. 

In case you were wondering, I did show him up eventually. We were both in a food competition last year and guess what guys? I won and he lost.

I WON. HE LOST. 

I won the prestigious Family Chopped 2015 competition with my aunt (Heavy P's sister who can also cook) with one of my "unconventional" recipes as he would call it- deep fried gnocchi poutine with veal. 

We're comin' for ya in 2016 Chef Paul- consider this putting you on notice!

"The proper way is the right way" is one of the most important things my Dad taught me (haha you taught me something!) Watching him work in the kitchen and with pretty much everything else he does, I have learned that there are no short cuts in life and it's best to do things properly to get the desired result.  

My favourite memory in the kitchen with him was when he made garlic bread and mozzarella sticks. I can only recall him making it a few times. After over 15 years of begging he made it again a few weeks ago:

 (cutting butter)

(chopping garlic)

(simmering it in a pot and adding oregano)










(rolling out the pizza dough)

(slicing it in long strips)

(braiding it)

(braided)

(grate some parmesan cheese)

(place on a baking sheet)

(bake until golden)

(take out and brush with butter, garlic mixture)

(sprinkle with cheese)

It's that simple. 

This is in no way a reflection of what Heavy P can actually do in the kitchen... 

He told me as he was rolling out the dough, how when we were younger he would threaten us with jambalaya if we didn't like what he was cooking. 

I just realized I never knew what jambalaya was. 

source: http://www.gimmesomeoven.com/jambalaya-recipe/

It looks pretty damn good actually. Maybe I will try it this week.

I also didn't realize he knows how to braid... he's a man of many talents!

Watching him make garlic bread with dinner reminded me of being a kid in the kitchen again. It reminded me of the most important thing he taught me in the kitchen.

He taught me how important it is to eat as a family.

It didn't matter what we were eating, if we liked it or not, if we helped him cook or if we even learned anything by watching him cook. We always ate together and that is something I will take to my own family. I want to sit down with my family and have quality time with the people I love. I want them to see someone lean back in a chair after telling his children not to do that and have the chair slip and the person falls and you and your sister laugh hysterically ever after. (I can still picture Heavy P's face as he tried to stop himself from falling). Eating dinner together creates this magic. 

Note: My Dad is also a kick ass brown person.

He immigrated to Canada from England.

His parents are both mixed.

His Dad is African American and Caucasian

His Mom is Portuguese and Indian.

So basically I'm kind of a jambalaya of sorts- mixed with many cultures and colours. 

U ARE WHAT U EAT

KEEP CALM AND CURRY ON

When I was young, my Mom would cook curry, roti and other West Indian food and 

I HATED IT. 

I hated the smell, I hated the spice, I hated how people looked at me when I ate it, I hated the questions and I hated that she cooked it. 

I HATED IT AND EVERYTHING THAT HAD TO DO WITH IT.

My Mom immigrated to Canada as an adult from Guyana. I have had to explain where my Mom and Dad are from my whole life. I don't exactly know why the question, 

"where are you from?" 

is so important to people. The follow up to that question is, 

"what language do they speak there?"

and 

"where is Guyana?"

Guyana is in South America, they speak English. 

Growing up, my Mom did not cook a lot of West Indian food. I think because my sister and I didn't really like it. We were secretly becoming Canadian. She also didn't cook a lot of boxed or canned foods. I remember going to friends' houses and they ate things that I had never heard of. Until a few years ago, I had never had Hamburger Helper (maybe thats for the better). I was forever jealous of other kid's lunches at school and Betty Crocker meals. 

I went to a school where I could count on one hand how many "brown kids" there were. I didn't know the difference until one day a girl called me a chocolate bunny and I wasn't allowed to play with them. I told the lunch monitor and she made me go to the office. 

It became a big deal to everyone else but me.

Everyone assumed that all brown kids are Indian and I was also dropped in that group. I didn't mind so much until other kids made fun of my lunch or made fun of that fact that I was brown. I get it, kids don't know better but it was still a weird feeling- to be made fun of something I'm actually not so much of. I am part Indian but that doesn't make up all my heritage. Even if it did, why was it so funny and gross to other kids? 

I felt like a closet brown person, if that's even possible. At school, I'd hang out with the white kids and pretend at home we ate canned soup, hamburger helper and boxed meat. Secretly, I was wondering why didn't my Mom cook this stuff??? It tasted so good. 

I remember a specific time, I came home from school begging my Mom to buy me fruit snacks for my lunch. She came home from the grocery store with dried fruit, thinking these were fruit snacks.

I cried. 

I couldn't understand how she could not know what fruit snacks were. I didn't realize at the time that my Mother was not brought up on boxed or canned food. Everything was fresh produce and making things from scratch. I think most things are curried too (which I still don't care for). 

I felt so embarrassed and ashamed that curry was a part of my Mom's culture and because of the way other kids reacted to it. I never brought it for lunch and I never talked about where my Mom was from because of all the questions and the ignorant comments. 

By high school, I had found out about Michelinas frozen meals and I had her buy those for my lunch. She must have been dying on the inside to know I'd rather eat frozen meals than fresh food. P.S I still LOVE Michelinas. 

My Mom was raised by a stay-at-home Mother who cooked everything for her 8 children. I watched my Mom cook roti and chicken curry tonight and as she rolled out the roti she told me something I did not know- her Mother never taught her how to cook. I was somewhat surprised because she makes many of my favourite dishes. My Mom taught herself how to cook with some help from my Dad... I realized she had to learn quickly on how to cook for Canadian children who were busy SPREADING PB AND J ON ROTI! As she cooked the curry she talked about the fresh fish they have back home, how her Mother cooked everything and how going out to eat was not a thing like it is here. She said going out to eat was like telling people you don't want to or don't know how to cook. Going out to eat here is a favourite past time, a time to relax and not have to cook, enjoy other's company, a time to celebrate. 

 

As she finished the curry, she asked me since when do I like curry but I couldn't remember. One day I tried curry and 

it wasn't bad. 

I was an adult by then. Now, I look forward to when she cooks chicken curry. She has always been proud of where she comes from and has never shown embarrassment. 
No matter how many times she's asked to spell, pronounce or write her name down. 

My Mom's name is Indra and she has taught me how to cook with pride, to try new things and to not care what anyone thinks.  

Learning about another culture's food (albeit my own culture) sheds light on different ways of life and the ways that food impact and shape who you become. 

U ARE WHAT YOU EAT

NEW YEAR. NEW BLOG.

Many of you may remember I started a blog a few years ago, "Unsheltering Christa" - a blog dedicated to new experiences that most people were already familiar with. I fell off the map with it and decided to blog about something different this year and hopefully for a while.

I decided to blog about food and people. 

"U ARE WHAT U EAT"

is a blog series that will cover different dialogues as they relate to food and people's lives.

Food is such an integral part of our lives, filled with memories, new experiences, emotion...etc. 

People eat out at restaurants or at social gatherings, we take pictures of our glorious meals, we like pages on Facebook that show us how to cook new and innovative old recipes, there are tv channels dedicated to food, people diet, there are vegetarians, we eat when we're sad sometimes, we celebrate with food. Food is a huge part of people and we truly are what we eat. 


I leave you with this though, thoughts?

source: http://cool-food-image.com/funny-photos-food.html