Who doesn't love a good story?

 I sure do! In fact, stories happen to be how I communicate regularly. It is interesting though that back in the 70s when my Mom would take my sisters Brooke and Amy and me to the library on a midweek night, I would always choose reference books. My pre-digital need for the internet I suppose. Assimilation of information has always been a reward for me.

On a recent gloomy Saturday, Donna and I went to the local used book store. I am always on the hunt for May Pang's book Loving John, an incredibly detailed account of a year and a half of one of the most creative periods of the life of John Lennon. The book has been out of print for decades, so it is hard to find for under $100. Like always, it was not there.

From there, I go to the food section. Cookbooks are great and all, but it would have to be exceptional for me to let one take up space on my kitchen shelf. This I do not find either. I do know however, there is a small spring of refreshing source of information that can quench the thirst for information and tell a story at the same time. It is that narrow, but quickly expanding margin of food writing.

Photo by Joanie Simon on Unsplash

It is here you can tap into the deepest meanings of what food really represents. It takes our innermost secrets and embarrassments with the personal aspect of feeding ourselves and our families and hangs them on the clothesline for all of the village to see.

Here in the basement of that old bookstore, I find the story of a wonderful experiment. Coincidentally, it happens to be spot on with what I have been trying to convey for years. We CAN make delicious meals for ourselves and our families. We CAN stop eating bland processed food in which the carton tastes a little better than the actual food itself! We CAN stop endorsing restaurants that ride on the coattails of plummeting processed food quality. We can confidently make simple, nutritious, flavorful meals. Our past, nor our busy schedule need to hinder this.

Kathleen Flinn's Kitchen Counter Cooking School was that find. Having returned home to the Pacific Northwest from Le Cordon Bleu's cooking school in Paris, she was unsure of what was next. She noticed while at her local grocery store, a woman with a cart full of processed food. She struck up a conversation and from there she started a project that would find 9 women from different walks of life, all of whom wanted to feel complete by breaking the cycle of consuming processed foods and buying healthy foods that rot in the refrigerator.

If you were to read back through my Fight4Taste blog, I have been on this line of thinking for years. Each, albeit slow, step I take is moving toward the goal of showing people that they can do it. Cooking is not some unattainable superpower only reserved for select people. It is foundationally achievable with a flavor of being unique for every person because it is that personal.

Why read a book about something I think I already know? Wouldn't those John Grisham books found in the State Park book share box provide much more entertainment and suspense? Kat Flynn tapped into something I knew was there, but revealed that the cuts and scars are so much deeper than I realized. How a person cooks, how they shop, and in turn wish they could cook reflects on their perception of their childhood, their upbringing, and their worth as an adult, spouse, and parent. It is a mirror reflection of their self-worth and self-esteem. This is serious business! I knew it was personal, but this is deep.

Ms. Flynn has validated what I am working towards and I am so glad to find another voice in the forest of lost souls trying to find their way. It only makes me want to do more. I hope that never stops.