Learning to Cook : First Courses : Everybody Loves a Cook

Some of us learned to cook from our mothers. Some of us learned to cook in spite of our mothers. Actually, our mothers didn’t have all that much to do with the process--as the following stories prove.

Although we all came to cooking via different paths, all of us vividly remember the first foods that we cooked. And while they’re not generally dishes that we find ourselves cooking up every day, when we recently tested these recipes, we found, somewhat to our surprise, that they are all delicious.

My mother was taste-blind. She’d leave the butter uncovered in the refrigerator, and when I’d turn up my 2-year-old nose and refuse to eat it, be genuinely puzzled. She had a distressing habit of putting half-melted ice cream into ice trays; left uncovered they became, to me, inedible. She never understood why.

She was curious about food, in an intellectual sort of way--she couldn’t resist buying anything she hadn’t seen before and was constantly coming home with exotic foodstuffs--but she was the sort of person who often forgot to eat. And she once seriously told me that when she was a child she had been served the same dinner every night--peas, rice and hamburger--and thought it wonderful. That’s probably why I learned to cook.

I honestly don’t remember learning; cooking is just something that I always did. One of my earliest memories is standing on a stepladder at the stove, stirring cheese fondue for a party my mother was giving. I think I was 5.

I remember the sensual pleasure of watching the cheese fall from the grater in even shreds, and then dusting it lightly with flour and tossing it in the air. I remember the way the spoon felt as the cheese began to melt. But most of all I remember the surprise of all those grown-ups. “Ruthie cooked this? Really?”

Cooking, I quickly discovered, was an easy way to get instant approval. In the second grade, when Miss Mullaney asked each student to do a report on a foreign country, I chose Denmark. Like the other kids, I immediately went to the library; unlike them, I went right to the cookbook section. Armed with maps and photographs, the other students rose to give their reports. When I got up to give mine, I passed out Danish apple cake. Afterwards, if you’d asked anyone in my class which country he most wanted to live in, Denmark would have won.

But the person I most wanted to impress was my father. This wasn’t easy--he told everyone what a wonderful cook my mother was. He might even have believed it. The real truth was that food didn’t really interest him all that much. It would take something really spectacular to get his attention.

I began watching what Dad ate. I soon realized that the one kind of food he was really passionate about was German. Luchow’s was his favorite restaurant, and careful observation revealed that he tended to order three things: Wiener schnitzel, Kassler rippchen and sauerbraten.

My mother actually did a fair rendition of Wiener schnitzel, and she could manage to cook smoked pork chops. But a dish that required five days of premeditation was completely beyond her culinary imagination. Sauerbraten, I decided, would be my way to my father’s heart.

SAUERBRATEN

1 (3 1/2-pound) boned chuck roast

Marinade

Flour

1/3 cup oil

1/2 cup gingersnaps

1 tablespoon sugar

Place roast in large glass deep dish and cover with Marinade. Cover and refrigerate 5 days, turning every day.

Remove roast from Marinade and wipe dry. Reserve liquid. Roll roast in flour. Heat oil in deep heavy pot over medium-high heat. Brown roast. Add reserved Marinade. Bring to boil. Cover, reduce heat to low and simmer 2 1/2 hours.

Remove roast from pot. Skim fat from liquid. Strain drippings and add water to make 3 1/2 cups. Return liquid to pot.

Crush gingersnaps in food processor or blender. Mix with sugar. Slowly add 1/2 cup Marinade to make paste, then stir paste slowly back into pot with remaining Marinade. Reheat, stirring constantly until smooth and slightly thickened. Add roast and simmer 10 to 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Slice meat and serve with sauce. Makes 8 servings.

Marinade

3/4 cup red wine

1 1/2 cups vinegar

2 onions, sliced

1 carrot, sliced

2 whole allspice

4 whole cloves

1 tablespoon salt

2 teaspoons black pepper

Combine red wine, vinegar, onions, carrot, allspice, cloves, salt and pepper in large bowl. Makes about 5 cups.