the whole plate.

When I was younger, I remember watching my mom prepare meals each evening, imagining that she had always intuitively known how to cook. It seemed like a skill that one was born with, and as the wife of a husband who loved to eat, mother of two growing daughters, and daughter of an avid cook, I figured she was lucky to be well-equipped with good technique.

It wasn’t until much later that I realized cooking is an art most people have to grow into – and one into which many never do. I learned that while my grandmother always cooked a family dinner, my mom didn’t truly settle into the kitchen until she reached her mid twenties, living in an apartment of her own, taking an interest in both her health and her image [a story that, in some ways, mirrors my own].

brunch chefs: Chelsea, yours truly, Megan, Jamie

This past Sunday, I enjoyed the company of some others who have caught onto the joys of cooking.  I was invited to a lovely potluck brunch with a few fellow bloggers, an opportunity for we twentysomething New York ladies to experiment in our kitchens and share the results.

It occurred to me how rare this is: 25 and under, we had all faced recipes [or lack thereof], conquered oven settings and chopping techniques, selected market ingredients, made adjustments according to taste.  We’d all held onto a bit of faith: that our handiwork would turn out well, that our companions would enjoy the taste.

Beyond that, not only are we all amateur chefs, we are also foodies willing to try most anything.  Each of these ladies shares my affinity for label-free living, and each of us tried every dish on the table.  Again, a rarity in the “real world.”

It’s unsurprising that we all got along so well.  We sipped guava kombucha [a new drink for me], connected over the usual twentysomething tales, ate well, and shared the stories behind the platters.

What was my story?  I knew I wanted to bring some vegetables, and I knew I wanted to keep it relatively simple, as I’m always about letting the basics shine.  So, after quickly consulting my mom via phone, I threw together one of our classic Thanksgiving recipes: Moroccan-spiced butternut squash and fennel.  It’s a simple blend of olive oil, spices, squash, onion, and fennel, roasted to sweet perfection in a very hot oven.  As family example has been key in my culinary education, it seemed an appropriate dish to prepare.

moroccan squash and fennel; pear clafoutis; sabra hummus

Jamie prepared a couscous salad after my own heart: Mediterranean inspired, with roasted chickpeas, feta, peppers, cucumber, and tomatoes, it was cool and refreshing, and the leftovers were delicious with my lunch the following day.  While Jamie’s kitchen is reportedly not ideal for aspiring chefs [read: it is typically Manhattan-sized-tiny], this dish is a staple of hers.  Further proof that regardless of environment, food that is equally fresh and delicious is never out of reach.

mediterranean couscous; cheesy brunch casserole

Our gracious hostess, Chelsea, consulted two cookbooks for her two entrees: Clean Eating for a butternut squash casserole and Cooking Light for a cheesy brunch casserole.  I always admire people who can actually follow recipes; this would be why Chelsea knows how to successfully bake, as attested by the peanut butter cookies to which we were later treated.  As we discussed the concept of recipe regulations, Chelsea commented how she loves the step by step processes within cookbook covers, testimony that cooking is incredibly individualized: I see my stovetop as a blank canvas; others might prefer to paint by numbers.  In the end, our eyes and our mouths both receive beautiful results.

my plate

Megan provided dessert: a pear clafoutis, inspired by the signature dish of her most recent read, On Rue Tatin.   [Side note: Megan ran a half marathon that morning, came home and baked for us, and still managed to arrive before me.  Kudos to her. :)].  Apparently the delightful slices we enjoyed were the second attempt at this dessert, as the first did not fare quite so well.  Mishaps are a key part of the amateur chef learning process, as I have certainly experienced.  Some of my less than stellar attempts in the kitchen have taught me the truth of the old adages: practice makes perfect, and if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.

a slice of pear clafoutis; white honey ginseng tea

Without our mutual loves of a healthy kitchen, we would never have had the pleasure of an afternoon of homemade food, classic fun, and new friends.  And really, is there any better way to spend a Sunday?

Ladies, let’s do it again soon!

Do you enjoy sharing your cooking with others?

Related posts:

1. a potluck in the real world.
2. dinner 12.10: chanukkah.
3. beet it.