My story of growing up to be an instinctual chef:

As a little girl, I use to love to watch my grandmother cook. She would say “Clogs,” (my family’s nickname for me) “come watch me as I make this.” I would drag over my little plastic stool, hop up and being careful not to get too close to the fire, watched her wide-eyed, put a little of this, a dash of that, and stir it all together. She would turn to me and say, “You got that?” to which each time, I nodded my head, yes. Nope, I didn’t “got” it… but every time I watched, nodded, and soaked it all in.

My mother also cooked the same way. Growing up with West Indian parents and grandparents, they never measured, never weighed, and if they didn’t have an ingredient they needed, they pulled out some other staple ingredient from the cupboard, and used that instead.

And it was amazing just about every time.

Oh, there were missteps and mistakes, but they would say, “oops, this needs more … or, this has too much … ” and make adjustments to fix it. Done, simple.

(again, for me not so simple)

My mom, while cooking, would tell me stories of when she first married my dad, the bad meals she made, since as she said, she wasn’t a good cook. He would say it was enjoyable, even if it was burnt, for fear of going hungry. Ha! Hey, throw something else in, that will make it even better!

She had a hefty cookbook collection including crazy old-school gems like Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook, the Betty Crocker Microwave Cooking, and the age old Joy of Cooking. These books merely became “reference”, as my mom used to say that she liked the pictures. Lol. She would say “I can make that better than that.” And do the opposite  than what the recipe called for. Still throwing in a pinch of ... or a sprinkle of ... Hmmm...

As I grew older, I began to cook in the same way. Without even realizing, I was throwing a handful of this, a dash of that, and hey! it was done. Make a few adjustments, and might I say, it was pretty daggone delicious. I had apparently picked up their intrinsic way of cooking. It became my comfort zone, my happy place, this kind of cooking.

 I eventually went to culinary school, and learned the science behind cooking, but it was hard for me to switch to measuring out ingredients. Even after obtaining my degree and working in various restaurants and catering facilities, I found myself returning to a handful and dash, rather than a cup and a teaspoon, as I cooked.

Really, we all have it in us, once we learn to trust our instincts, and not be afraid to make mistakes. Go on, try that spice you didn’t know what to do with. I mean, hey, everything goes with chicken, right?