The Art of Cooking

My earliest memory is reminiscent of my grandmother roasting tomatoes with garlic and eggplants on the stovetop. Bits of charred vegetable skins fly about in her neat kitchen where the windows have drawn curtains, indicating that dawn had approached. I would stick my hand into her dress pocket as I was too short to steal a peek at what she would conjure up for breakfast.

Here, we would talk about school and plan which television show we looked forward to that day. Occasionally, she would let me sniff different herbs and have me guess which ones they were. The crackle of the fire mixed with savoury aromas that lingered in each nook and cranny made my mouth water.  It was in these silent and tranquil moments I cherished most with her, while the rest of the house slept. 

My entire Caribbean culture is deep rooted in our love for food. For any occasion we celebrate with food and even for funerals we honour our dead with food. Even though my grandmother’s kitchen was not the largest, there was always enough to feed an entire village. I cannot recall a day where she took a break from cooking. I think she dedicated her life to spoiling me with my favourite things to eat. I remember all her praises when I finally made something of my own. It was simply a salad but it acted as a stepping stone to achieving my independence. From this minor event alone, around a hundred and one dishes were whipped up to pair with my salad. I was so confused because I literally prepared the bare minimum. When I was much older, I brushed it away as another “celebration.”

Gradually, my grandmother passed down “secrets of the trade” to my mom who in turn, passed them to me. Creating new dishes came naturally to us. It was how we stayed connected, even in the absence of one another. I took pride in every meal I made because it felt as though I represented my family. It was through this creative passion I was able to make friends in university. We bonded over eating and sharing recipes. Now, I have friends with amazing culinary skills for life. 

“We were excited for you to cook for us.. because we’re all foodies. The connection we made was magical and after that, every single day we cooked together,” says Katia, “It reminded me of home.” 

In a way, I have a newfound appreciation for the things my grandmother taught me in the kitchen. It was her way of showing me she cared because a chef never shares their secrets.   I love to cook because it transcends me back to when I was a young girl who was excited to eat all the delicious meals. Nothing can compare to the puff of steam from fresh roti or ladling stew on a bed of jasmine rice. I just hope that I can bring back that same sense of nostalgia to everyone who tries our food. 

I view cooking as an expression of the imagination. Not only is it needed for survival but it brings people together even if they are from different cultures. It makes everyone put aside their differences and create happy memories. Unfortunately, I cannot travel to my country as frequently. Instead, I brought my island to a small kitchen in Thunder Bay so my friends have bits and pieces of a story about where I come from.