In the Kitchen With…

In the Kitchen With…

When I entered junior high school in the late ’80s, I was one of 30 in my class in a rural Wisconsin farm town.  I rode the bus to school for a whole hour, one that was usually spent reading, listening to my Walkman cassette player, or scribbling in one of my many green spiral bound notebooks.  I was a Chuck Taylor clad tomboy without a thought in my head about cooking, baking, or being domestic. At the time, it was school policy for the girls to take home economics while the boys got to take shop class – a…

When I entered junior high school in the late ’80s, I was one of 30 in my class in a rural Wisconsin farm town.  I rode the bus to school for a whole hour, one that was usually spent reading, listening to my Walkman cassette player, or scribbling in one of my many green spiral bound notebooks.  I was a Chuck Taylor clad tomboy without a thought in my head about cooking, baking, or being domestic.

At the time, it was school policy for the girls to take home economics while the boys got to take shop class – a policy that seemed discriminatory and archaic to me.  After a few classes on how to make popovers and what to do with a box of biscuit mix, my stagnating imagination turned to daydreaming, scheming on how I could possibly escape that 46 minutes of agony and get across the hall to wood shop with the boys.  It didn’t work, and I dutifully suffered through an entire year of home-ec.  I did finally get my chance to work in wood shop once I got to my public high school career and it was a bright beacon, a second nature of working with my hands and a forcing of my brain to understand the math that was always so elusive to me.

If my awkward year of home-ec did teach me anything, it was that I did not ever want to cook from a box, or be told what I had to do.  The early years of being out on my own frequently saw me holding two jobs, but most nights I cooked something for myself, and I always packed my own lunch.  But things really seemed to change for me after I had a baby 5 years ago and became a stay-at-home mother.  Early infancy gave me plenty of time to read and begin to cook and bake more in depth from cookbooks, and by the time my son had turned 4 I had grown a sourdough starter out of rural Wisconsin grapes and delved into breads that took 3 days of planning from inception to first slice.  It didn’t happen overnight, but it seemed like all of a sudden one day I needed barbecue sauce and the thought never entered my mind to run out and buy it.

Today there isn’t much I don’t make from scratch, and I don’t say that with a judgmental eye or with disdain for you if you do.  I just find being in the kitchen infinitely rewarding, and many of my tasks there are as much my life’s work as they are my relaxation time.  I take my job as a homemaker seriously, taking as much pride in my ability to finally turn out a loaf of bread that meets my standards as my ability, weather cooperating, to get 3 loads of laundry to line-dry in a day. 

The economic and ecological climates demand encouragement for the domestically inclined, and good resources for those who want learn how to do more for themselves.  I hope to encourage any person who may have felt similarly dismissive and annoyed with the old-school notion of home-ec, and to maybe inspire those who are ready to start some serious kitchen experiments of their own.