I normally don't overly enjoy meals I cook myself. By that I mean, not that they're not good, it's just that after spending the time cooking it, I'm tired of it. That's a poor explanation, but I don't really know how to describe it. I think maybe it's really that I don't enjoy cooking - it's more of a necessary evil, a chore.
But today, we had a half day at school, so this afternoon I cooked the most delicious pork loin in gravy in my handy-dandy pressure cooker, the only brown rice I've ever cooked that was just the right texture, big brown butterbeans, mustard greens with pepper sauce, yeast rolls and sweet tea. There was no fancy presentation, and I wouldn't call it dinner - it was supper - so good that it was comforting.
Granny Latino, my Mama's Mama, was like that. She would cook all day and wouldn't eat anything she cooked when we all sat down to eat. Instead of that she would have a piece of pie and a cup of coffee. She claimed she had been eating all day (tasting, which was the way she cooked and passed on to me) and didn't want anymore.
I don't taste while cooking. It's a wonder anything I cook is fit to eat, but as the size of all in my household can attest, my cooking's not too shabby. My grandmother was a fabulous cook, and I don't ever remember seeing her taste, or if so, very, very seldom.
It burns my husband up that I don't taste while cooking, but once I start the process, I just don't want whatever it is. It's like in my subconscious I know I'll have to eat a plate of it in the end and eating it while I go would just be much too much. My husband's a good cook, taught me a lot when we married, and buddy, he tastes - all the way through!
I gotta savor it all! I have to taste the sausage, the cheese, the bacon, the tomatoes.......I usually have a glass of wine going at the same time. Cookin' is an adventure for me and I immerse myself in it.