Falling in love with cooking

My story. Cooking is nothing short of an art, which one refines with time and passion. Chef Kadumukasa Kironde fell in love with cooking when he was a teenager and shares his journey.

I have never taken a formal lesson in cooking and neither is it likely that I will do so for the rest of my natural life. I have been cooking for as far back as I can remember, but the man to whom I give credit to my vocation was the legendary Chef Henry Hawkins, my late step grandfather.
Looking back over time, it is difficult to say why cooking had so much appeal for me, quite possibly the most plausible reason being that rather like sex, cooking offers immediate payoff of sticky beaters to lick and adulation and praise for a superb cream caramel and that sort of thing.

For a native of the “Dark” Continent, hitting the pulsating Big Apple (New York City) in 1962 aged 16 going on 17, it was probably the quickest and surest way to create an impression.
Chef Hawkins, a very seasoned man of the kitchen who originally hailed from Trinidad and Tobago, used to be a senior instructor at The Maritime School of Cooking that was located in Brooklyn, New York. In short, he taught the fellows who made the chow for crews of the American Maritime fleet.
Well, some may well argue and say that it was hardly haute cuisine and that is not in doubt. On the other hand, in order for one to be a teacher of such creative design, one had to have a very thorough and deep foundation in all manner of culinary matters.

At the hand of a master
Luckily for me, Chef Hawkins was one of the best in his field and I could not have had a more inspired teacher. The man was a wonderful, genial and patient teacher to whom I owe my first love for food.
Looking back, it seems that the majority of his recipes came from his head and were firmly etched in his memory, having been passed on to him by his forefathers and mother from the West Indies. The latter was reputedly a fine cook of the highest order. Chef Hawkins cuisine reflected the rich diversity of traditions and culture that is the hallmark of the Caribbean. These were people of many different races and cultures who converged and made the Caribbean Islands their home and their presence profoundly influenced the cuisine of the place. With each set of new settlers came their traditional cooking methods and naturally they imported their own preferred and favourite foods, planting fruits and vegetables and rearing various livestock.

Gradually, I became imbued and intoxicated with the scintillating concoctions that he would conjure up. From the most delicate of the classic French pastries such as brioche or croissant au beure, to a superb rum chocolate mouse or how about a classic beef Wellington, every occasion was a triumph. I mentioned continental, but how about West Indian? And when it came to the classic Rice and Peas (Jamaican Coat of Arms) or curry goat the results were always sensational. It was then that I became determined to do likewise and even better given the chance.

A gem in cook books
Chef Hawkins possessed the standard cookbooks used by instructors. Solid and somewhat pedantic material not very inspirational, nevertheless offering a solid background in cookery. I was fortunate enough to get hold of the classic Joy of Cooking by Irma S Rombauer and Marion Rombauer Becker as well as Fannie Farmer’s “The Boston Cooking-School Cook Book” and this coupled with various pamphlets from Hersey’s Carnation recipes and Betty Crocker’s Cookbook
became must reading. I happened to one day come across Julia Child’s The Art of French Cooking and was at once overwhelmed by the sheer wealth and versatility of French cooking and somehow, Julia Child made it so simple. This was during the mid-60s when the Americans were coming out of their cocoon and conservative mould and within a matter of time; food in America took on a new dimension and status hitherto unknown.

As the cuisine flourished it became inexorably linked with the way that they dressed and became linked with the very social fabric of the society. No less a person that the great Chinese philosopher Confucius (he died in 479 BC) regarded food as a most serious form of Art. So taking a leaf from the Chinese, the practice of the art of cooking was encouraged.

Nothing short of an art
As the nation’s hunger for good food was awakening, I came to learn that there was a lot more to herbs than cilantro and parsley and that Rosemary was not just some common girl who lived on the block. I came to figure out that it was with good reason that the French were referred to as frogs and then I came to realise the portions of the animals that my ancestors and forefathers would disdain.
I bought James Beard and Elizabeth David books and they taught me about food and flavour. This was also the time when I became an avid reader of the New York Times who led me by the hand with the original New York Times cook books. These were incidentally very eclectic in nature and design. To wit, there was The New York Times International Cook Book (I still have my copy) and it had over 50 different countries represented. Mark you; these were the 60s when we did not have the ubiquitous internet.

Traveling the world
Around 1965, I traveled to Europe and spent a memorable year studying at the Sorbonne in Paris as well as the Alliance Francaise. I saw a bit of the world that was different from America and left me more enlightened than before. And a year later I was back in New York and besides food, I had now acquired a new love, classical music.

I enrolled at University (in New York) around 1971, and we would traipse over to Chinatown and eat all manner of food from China. That was the time when I was introduced to squab, frog’s legs, carp and eel and so much more too numerous to mention. I got to know that China with a mere 12 per cent of arable land can claim the distinction of feeding, on a daily basis, 20 per cent of the world’s population. Moreover, their cooking concentrates on the practical art of making very little go a very long way. Not content with that noble aspiration, nothing is left to waste be it the pig, chicken or goat. No, I cannot say that I ever knowingly ate snakes or members of the feline family.
Over the years I became an accomplished cook who was at ease with French, Chinese, European, the best that America had to offer and of course our very own African food. In this case it was Ghanaian, Nigerian and Ethiopian.

Nowadays, the people around us appear to be somewhat indifferent to good food, at least what I would call good food. Sadly, today (generally), good food is notably conspicuous by its absence.

editorial@ug.nationmedia.com