Just for fun...Memory Lane

I was about 4 and I had a little kitchen under a little humpy bridge that went over our creek. I made mudpie cakes and even thumped them a little to get rid of any air bubbles(just like mom) and put them in the oven. My big sister snuck in and added more mud to each cake layer so that when I took them out of the oven my cake layers had properly risen. I actually started to cook when I was in college and my roommates and I divided up the menu every week. One of my college roommates is also a vintner in Sonoma and she is a fantastic cook.

I think I spent most evenings in the kitchen with my mother growing up. I had two younger sisters, and Mom cooked almost every night. Before I could be trusted with the knives and stove, my dad says I played with my toy kitchen set. But the first real memory I have of cooking something was when I reproduced Mom's oatmeal ginger cookies. They still bring me a particular joy.

I got the Betty Crocker "Boys and Girls Cookbook" for a birthday or Christmas (I see they still sell it); I must have been about 10 years old. I made French toast and I still consult it when making French toast!

I was 4 years old, and made these http://food52.com/recipes/19487-vanilice with my grandmother. It has been my most treasured recipe ever since... I had my own apron and my rolling pin and was allowed to make all the mess in the world!

I think my first memory was cooking chocolate "pudding" when I was about 4. I used cornstarch, cocoa powder and water and made all the grownups taste it. Naturally it was dreadful. Fast forward to college when I had my first blow-out dinner party for Thanksgiving. My mom was out of the country so I called my dad to ask about trussing the turkey. As I did not have string or the little skewers my mom used he suggested screws or maybe safety pins as long as I, you know, wiped them down with alcohol first. I did use safety pins and it worked surprisingly well! Then at Christmas my aunt so smartly put kitchen twine and a trussing kit in my stocking for the next go.

One of myearliest memories is carrying my little step-stool into the kitchen when I was 3 to help Mom cut out Christmas cookies. By the time I was 5 I was standing on that stool stirring the gravy for Sunday dinner.

I very well remember! I was a college student (my mother did ALL cooking at home), cooking for the boy I was dating. Of all things, I attempted gravy. Was supposed to be a brown gravy to go with beef. OMG! I believe it may have done quite well to hang wall paper! Romance ended!

"Remememberd" in Typonese means remembered...LOL!

I was such a late bloomer. My mother didn't enjoy cooking and didn't want help in her kitchen (and to be fair, the first time she let me peel the hard boiled eggs for egg salad, I peeled off most of the egg whites as well). When I got my own apartment in optometry school, I had to learn to cook in self defense, and I found that I loved it. One of my professors (There were only 65 people in our class, and only 13 women, so we got to know our professors well) and his wife were great cooks--they won tteh Terlingua chili cook off one year. He gave me a recipe for an empanada in which you make your own bread dough--he had adapted it from one of the Time Life cookbooks--and it took all day to make. I made it for everyone. I started trying to make my own bread, and then I started collecting cookbooks and went from there. My first husband (don't ask) had cousins who were great cooks--actually he cooked and she baked--and they also had a custom buiklt kitch that was huge and had professional appliances. I loved them adn spent as much time as I could with them cooking and baking. I got the baking bug from her-- she gave me my first Maida Heatter cookbook. Before that, I had only baked cake from a mix. Thanks for asking this question, menasque. it brought back nice memories.

Cooking with my grandma making my great grandmother's brownie recipe :-) I remember my arm getting tired frm stirring the batter together. But always getting to lick the spoon before tasting the final product.

I always hung out in the kitchen when my mother and grandmother were cooking and they very early on let me 'help'. I am sure I made more work for them than anything, but they both encouraged. Sometime about third grade, I stretched my wings and made a chocolate cake--not from a box. Mom was home, but not in the kitchen. She let me do it myself. It succeeded and I never doubted that the kitchen was the place to be.

I learned to cook when I was eight, the year I my patents gave me one of my all-time favorite presents: a cookbook for kids. The first thing I made was a cheese souffle -- with help from my Dad, who alleged that his experience on KP duty when he was in the army during the Second World War gave him expertise in culinary matters. He was my sous-chef for many years -- cleaning up after me, but, most importantly, eating everything I made and encouraging me no matter what. And, by the way, that cheese souffle was pretty good.

My first real cooking experience was when I went to college. I had never cooked before and now I sort of took on the cooking duties for the three of us guys. A mixture of hamburger helpers and canned goods were our staples. I am still kidded by one of my old roommates about reading the directions on the green bean can on how to heat them up. A long long time ago.

I suspect this wasn't the first thing I actually ever cooked, but it's the first thing I vividly remember. My best friend and I made a "One Bowl Golden Layer Cake" from The Joy of Cooking, right about the age when we were just old enough to read the recipe, so I guess that would have been age 6. We thought it would be great fun to make a blue cake, so we added some blue food coloring. We forgot however that the yellow batter would actually turn green with blue food coloring added. So it turned out green. Everyone had a big laugh when we cut and served it. The cake tasted just delicious, however, and despite its rather odd appearance, we were really quite proud of it. I spent a few hours with that friend two years ago and we laughed about it again. That was the first of many cakes I'd make during the next twelve years or so. And brownies. And cookies. And pies. And fudge. We had six kids in our family and if it wasn't made from scratch, we didn't eat it. I baked a lot, enjoying every minute of it. ;o)

I was 11, I made a special dinner for my parent's anniversary. I don't remember what I made for dinner, but dessert included whipped cream. Which I turned into butter. I remember sending my older brother to the store for more cream. I always think of that when I'm whipping cream!

The first thing I learned to cook was pancakes. I was six years old. That was the year that I quit smoking and after my brother and I surrendered our guerrilla army in the outer reaches of Long Island. That was the Battle of East Patchogue.

My mother allowed me to make Jello chocolate pudding on top the stove. I may have been in the third grade. She supervised, and when I became fascinated as it began to thicken, she explained why it was thickening. Making Jello puddings became the one thing she allowed me to do in the kitchen--she really didn't like other people to cook, and also told me she wanted me "to enjoy my childhood" without doing the work she did as a child.

I can't remember my first time in the kitchen...that's what made me curious if any of you did!