I think it’s a disease plaguing mothers. Self doubt and self denigration. Pretty much over everything! But predominantly over food. The nourishing of body and soul, your clan.
We worry, we fret, we loose sleep over what we are feeding our family. Will it satisfy our ideals regarding nutrition? Will it be enough to stretch to lunchboxes the next day or even another night’s dinner? Most importantly, if it has the aesthetic qualities we hold in high esteem – taste and appearance.
My mother is the best at questioning self worth when it comes to cooking. Before it even hits your plate she is apologizing for any lack of satisfaction you might gain from consuming it. If only it had a pinch of this or that, had she cooked it longer or served it with a spatula instead of a ladel. It’s so ridiculous, it’s amusing.
As I sat at my grandmother’s table over the weekend and my mother served us a slice of her latest disgrace she described as ‘might be awful’ (a raw coconut, banana and pawpaw pie which was absolutely delicious btw), I smiled.
This is a toast to her awful pie and any awful morsels of nourishment she or I or you or any mother out there provides now or in the future. Let us relish in our brilliance for providing daily food in the first place, celebrate our ability to be creative with often limited ingredients (and budgets) and give thanks that we are only dealing with a #firstworldproblem.