Making Spaces
I think about how I'm a LOT like my mom in so many ways, especially around her birthday. But I did NOT follow in her footsteps recently.
How did I stray? By refusing to take credit for my food-making prowess.
Let me set the scene...one of our favorite Luedtke family memories is of the Thanksgiving when my mom prepared some type of premade frozen fruit pie. My grandpa found the pie to be super-delicious, and said "Colleen, did you make this pie?" (Not sure who else would have made or supplied this pie, but I assume my grandpa was just so excited he didn't think this through). And my mom replied, "Mm-hmm, glad you like it."
My sister, brother, and I were all like "What?!!" but we didn't actually say anything, and my grandpa didn't seem to notice our disbelief. Not saying we were terribly discreet, but he couldn't see or hear very well...
When my grandpa left, all our tact went out the window. "MOM!! How could you claim you MADE that pie? You got it was a from a STORE?!
"Well," she calmly replied, without any hint of irony or embarrassment, "I was the one who bought it and put it in the oven. So, I made it."
How could we argue with that logic?
I can only imagine what my mom would have "made" if she had access to a makerspace...
My mom suffered from more than her share of angst and self-doubt, but form my perspective, it wasn't expressed via food or the domestic arts. She was like, "yeah, here's your food, it's totally processed and served with as much pop as you want." (Her motto: you kids will eat whatever if you get to drink pop with it.") And I LOVED it.
But when someone compliments me on my food preparation skills, (or my healthy eating habits), I get all twitchy. So when a co-worker appraised my lunch the other day and asked, "Did you make that? You always eat so healthy..." I was totally flumoxed and uncomfortable and did not want to claim that I had "made" anything.
My first roadblock to graciously accepting positive food-related feedback is that I find it really intrusive when people comment on whatever I'm eating (at least in the work breakroom). I love food as much as, if not more than, the next person, but I find it a thin line between sharing food excitement and sharing food judgement.
And I think way too hard about what it means to "make" food. I chop up a ton of vegetables, and I'm think I'm pretty creative with Pam Cooking Spray, hot sauce, salsa, and soy sauce, but is that cooking? I feel like Bill Clinton dancing around how it depends on what the meaning of "is" IS. The food I prepare makes me happy, and it's what I want to eat, but I don't consider it cooking or feel the need to share my "recipes."
Or maybe I just don't want to share my food tips because I'm very selfish, and I know I have perfected the equation for getting the most flavorful chewing experience for the least amount of calories, leaving more calories to be allocated for booze.
And given that last statement, it shouldn't be surprising that I feel totally hypocritical claiming, or letting someone else claim, that I eat "healthy." Okay, sure, if you just look at what I consume between noon and 1:00 p.m, I might seem like I'm making healthy choices, but you're definitely not getting the whole story.
But then again, you probably don't want the whole story. If you do happen to ever look at my lunch (or whatever I'm eating) and go "Hey Brussel Sprouts!" I should just be happy that you found my lunch of passing interest and/or inspiration (or even amusement) without feeling that any soul-searching is required.
I will have to draw the line, though, at saying that buying wine is the same as making it.
How did I stray? By refusing to take credit for my food-making prowess.
Let me set the scene...one of our favorite Luedtke family memories is of the Thanksgiving when my mom prepared some type of premade frozen fruit pie. My grandpa found the pie to be super-delicious, and said "Colleen, did you make this pie?" (Not sure who else would have made or supplied this pie, but I assume my grandpa was just so excited he didn't think this through). And my mom replied, "Mm-hmm, glad you like it."
 |
| One of our grandpa's nickname was "Popeye" for pretty good reasons... |
My sister, brother, and I were all like "What?!!" but we didn't actually say anything, and my grandpa didn't seem to notice our disbelief. Not saying we were terribly discreet, but he couldn't see or hear very well...
When my grandpa left, all our tact went out the window. "MOM!! How could you claim you MADE that pie? You got it was a from a STORE?!
"Well," she calmly replied, without any hint of irony or embarrassment, "I was the one who bought it and put it in the oven. So, I made it."
How could we argue with that logic?
I can only imagine what my mom would have "made" if she had access to a makerspace...
My mom suffered from more than her share of angst and self-doubt, but form my perspective, it wasn't expressed via food or the domestic arts. She was like, "yeah, here's your food, it's totally processed and served with as much pop as you want." (Her motto: you kids will eat whatever if you get to drink pop with it.") And I LOVED it.
But when someone compliments me on my food preparation skills, (or my healthy eating habits), I get all twitchy. So when a co-worker appraised my lunch the other day and asked, "Did you make that? You always eat so healthy..." I was totally flumoxed and uncomfortable and did not want to claim that I had "made" anything.
My first roadblock to graciously accepting positive food-related feedback is that I find it really intrusive when people comment on whatever I'm eating (at least in the work breakroom). I love food as much as, if not more than, the next person, but I find it a thin line between sharing food excitement and sharing food judgement.
And I think way too hard about what it means to "make" food. I chop up a ton of vegetables, and I'm think I'm pretty creative with Pam Cooking Spray, hot sauce, salsa, and soy sauce, but is that cooking? I feel like Bill Clinton dancing around how it depends on what the meaning of "is" IS. The food I prepare makes me happy, and it's what I want to eat, but I don't consider it cooking or feel the need to share my "recipes."
Or maybe I just don't want to share my food tips because I'm very selfish, and I know I have perfected the equation for getting the most flavorful chewing experience for the least amount of calories, leaving more calories to be allocated for booze.
And given that last statement, it shouldn't be surprising that I feel totally hypocritical claiming, or letting someone else claim, that I eat "healthy." Okay, sure, if you just look at what I consume between noon and 1:00 p.m, I might seem like I'm making healthy choices, but you're definitely not getting the whole story.
But then again, you probably don't want the whole story. If you do happen to ever look at my lunch (or whatever I'm eating) and go "Hey Brussel Sprouts!" I should just be happy that you found my lunch of passing interest and/or inspiration (or even amusement) without feeling that any soul-searching is required.
I will have to draw the line, though, at saying that buying wine is the same as making it.
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