Cooking, by Will Stanton

James was a fantastically good cook, and I believe I have figured out why.  There are several reasons that led to his preoccupation with having enough food to eat and enjoying it.

To begin with, James knew hunger.  He had very little to eat as a boy in Georgia and probably went hungry quite often.  Although his father was undoubtedly very intelligent (he could quote passages from the Bible merely from having heard them at church), he was illiterate and could find only menial work, which brought in very little money.  They lived in a pre-Civil-War-era house without electricity and sometimes had only collard greens for supper.  As a growing boy, this lack of food frequently must have preyed upon James' mind.

James left home at age fifteen to make his own way.  During this time, he had very little money and ate very little.  Probably the first time he had a square meal was when he joined the Air Force.  Although he, at last, did not go hungry, military chow doesn't have a great reputation.  It wasn't until after he left the service and used the G.I. bill to begin college that serendipity set him upon a path to learning about good quality food, prepared well.

One rainy day in San Antonio, James took refuge inside the lobby of an elegant hotel and sat down to study his French.  In walked a well-dressed, older gentleman who immediately took notice of James.  Did I mention that young James was stunningly handsome, enough to turn heads?  Well, he certainly did with Monsieur Charles Bois de Chêne, millionaire from Lausanne, Switzerland.  Charles spoke to James in French, who also replied in excellent French, James having inherited somehow an innately brilliant mind and could learn rapidly.  A strong friendship rapidly progressed to the point that Charles decided to take James with him to Switzerland and France so James could gain greater experience speaking French.

While traveling through France and Switzerland, James accompanied Charles to operas and ballets, afterwards being taken to meet the casts.  They attended the exclusive Cannes Film Festival.  And central to this story, he certainly learned a lot about proper preparation and presentation of food.  This understanding and interest in food stayed with him throughout the rest of his life.

Charles introduced James to elegant and varied meals among the five-star resorts along Lake Como.  Whenever they came across one of the famous French pâtisseries with their all-too-tempting pastries, they indulged themselves so much that James became concerned that those pastries easily could turn him into a cochon de lait, or ''suckling pig,'' the French idiom for someone who has become rather chunky.   And, when they were in Paris, they dined at the world-famous Hotel Ritz, where James came to truly understand haute cuisine.

By the time I met James in Denver, he already had developed an interest in cooking fine meals.  I know that I have a natural instinct for knowing how to cook, and I have done so on occasion; however, I never cared much for taking the time.  Before I had met James, I generally prepared simple meals for myself.  Then after James and I moved in together, James' preference was to do the cooking, so I generally assisted only as a sous chef, except when I was inspired to create a favorite dish of mine.

James had many varied interests and excelled in them all, yet I am sure that there remained a residual emotional scar from childhood when there was virtually no food in his family's house.  As a consequence, he always made sure we had a full larder, including a large pantry, extra storage on basement shelves, and in a large freezer in the basement.

Because James enjoyed cooking so much, I bought him cookery gifts over the years, such as a Cuisinart food processor, enameled, heavy-iron Le Crueset cook-pots, the best quality mixer, Chinese woks, bread-maker, pasta-maker, crystal wine glasses, and a large set of stoneware dinnerware.  While we were together, we enjoyed hosting dinner-parties.  For a while, after he died of lung cancer, I tried occasionally to continue that practice, but I finally lost heart and suspended the practice.

I set the professional mixer on top of the refrigerator and covered it with a plastic cover. I also covered the two dozen cook books.  The plastic covers have remained there now going on twenty years.  An acquaintance coveted my expensive Cuisinart and asked to buy it for only $20.  Because she supposedly is a friend, I agreed and let it go for that.  Most of the professional Le Crueset pots went in a garage-sale.  Other pots and pans remain, dust-covered, in the bottom drawer of my stove.  I have little interest in drinking wine, and few people come to my house, so the crystal wine-glasses remain in the buffet, unused.

Now my meals are what I call “utility eating.”  I prepare salads, heat a can of soup, make a sandwich, or occasionally cook something simple on the stove-top.  The oven hasn't been on in years.  I just don't have the interest in preparing varied and interesting meals just for myself.  Perhaps the most used appliance in my kitchen is the old microwave.  Sometimes I think that, if I didn't have a microwave, I'd starve.

The one prevention for repetitive and boring meals for me, however, is that I often have modest meals with friends out in various restaurants, nothing fancy, just basic food.  And, that's not so much because of being able to order varied food which I don't wish to bother making for myself.  It is because of the good company with my friends, which is especially important in my life right now.

© 19 May 2016 

About the Author 

I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life stories.  I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones.  Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group.  I do put some thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.