by Mary Murck

Created on: March 09, 2009

I grew up in a family of eight. Back then, big families weren't unusual. Our family was made up of my parents and the six of us four boys and two girls. I was second oldest child, oldest daughter. In our somewhat traditional household, most of the domestic arts fell to the females. We did dishes, housework, laundry, ironing while the boys took out the trash and did yard work.

When I was eleven years old, Mom was pregnant and had some health issues. It was then I learned to cook. While I had been observing her and taken an interest in the kitchen before that, it was bumped up a huge notch when she was bedridden for a time. I remember that she would instruct me, step by step, on making the meals for the family. I distinctly recall going into her room and saying "I've browned the hamburger and added the onions, now what do I do?"

Mom was patient and grateful for my efforts. My siblings weren't all that enthusiastic, as I recall. They missed her extra touch. My dinners were very basic, chili, hamburger casseroles, spaghetti, hot dogs, and that kind of thing. But everyone survived and Mom got better. Once she was up and about, I was out of a job, but quickly assumed the kitchen assistant position. I would chop, saut', mix, bake - - whatever she needed help with, I was there to do. In that way, I learned many techniques and observed her more closely.

I became the house baker. I could make cakes, cookies, and pies that rivaled Mom's. The secret of a flaky crust became a quest. She never liked making pies, so I relished that learning. I found out from my aunt, a superb baker, that using ice water makes a flaky crust. Once the crust was perfected, I could make all sorts of pies, endearing me to the whole family.

The other cooking - - slowly roasting meats to tenderness, perfect frying of chicken, herbs and spices in special dishes - - Mom patiently taught me. When I started to do more experimenting with dishes, she was always there to let me know what went well with garlic, ginger, marjoram, oregano, thyme, and others. Those lessons have served me well.

For many years, in fact up until she passed away, my Mom served as a reference for me. Many times I called her for a recipe, an opinion, an idea for a dinner I was planning. She would consult with me, tease me, or disagree with me. But I know she always loved it that I still wanted her advice. I am a good cook, friends and family will attest, but even more importantly, learning to cook at her side made me closer to my Mom.

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