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A Recipe of Great Resources for the Cook

© Reginald Vickers

From the time I was born there have been two things I love, food and cooking. Some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouth, but not I. I was born with a rubber spatula in my hand. My first words were not "Momma" and "Daddy" but "How would you like those eggs?" This is evident as you watch our home movies. In them you will find my oldest brother, Mike, reading, my other brother, Randy, beating someone or something up (usually me), and I was in the kitchen cooking a soufflé. There are even pictures of me in a high chair preparing a plate of spaghetti and later of me helping my brother fix eggs (ok, so he used my head to crack them open but I was still helping). My earliest memories are of being in the kitchen right at my momma's apron string.

Growing up, my friends wanted to play army. They could not understand that all I wanted to do was cook. Finally they gave in and gave me the title of mess sergeant. After they finished playing war they would come over and I would feed them. That lasted until one day I fixed an onion casserole. The problem was that I didn't have any onions. Tulip bulbs look kind of like onions though so I figured there wouldn't be any harm in changing the recipe a little. I guess you might say that the soldiers lost the war that day, with some of them ending up in the hospital. I was discharged.

I got this love of cooking from my momma. She is a great cook. It took me the longest time to figure out why people would "just happen to be in the neighborhood" about suppertime. You see, my momma grew up in the south cooking for large families with all that good "southern cooking". Most people up in Michigan had never had black-eyed peas and corn bread before. She became known all over the area for her style of cooking. This made me very popular. My friends would fight over who got to come over after church on Sunday. I thought I was pretty popular. It wasn't until later that I discovered they were there just to eat Momma's cooking.

But there was one problem with Momma's cooking. You see, she doesn't quite like to follow directions or recipes when she cooks. She prefers to throw things together just to see what kind of contraption turns out. This was my style of cooking because I liked to try new and different tastes. I liked getting a surprise. As for the rest of them: Randy would eat anything so it didn't matter to him; but for my bookworm brother and my father this was a different story. All my dad wanted was meat and potatoes and not to be the latest guinea pig to one of Momma's experiments. The happiest member of the family was the dog. He would sit between Mike and Dad because he knew something would be coming his way. When Momma would bring out her latest invention and dad would have that "what is this?" look, the dog's tail would begin wagging and he'd start licking his chops. He knew it was soon to be suppertime.

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