Ken was such a good cook and baker. His experience was broad and deep. He grew up cooing and canning from a garden in his back yard. His grandmother owned and cooked at the Afton House. Ken worked in restaurants, a bakery, pizza shoppe, hospital kitchen, and finally as a private chef for one of the Pillsbury family.
I grew up in a food family, too. My maternal grandmother had a garden and froze and canned food. At church events Flora was asked to bring her baked beans and pies. She made great doughnuts, cakes, cookies, roasts, egg dishes – a good home cook. My paternal grandmother was a Swedish cook for private families and institutions. She did great fish, fancy dishes, and various Swedish specialties like spritz and a type of gingersnap. My mom cooked as well. When she went back to work full time I often made dinners once I got home from school if they took time – pot roast, lentil soup, etc.
A few years ago when bread became whiter and more expensive, Ken took on the bread making for the two of us.
He so enjoyed making bread
I inherited his sourdough starter. I was anxious as I had been around his bread making, but he worked from a truly intuitive sense developed over years of experience.
I saved his starter and a friend, Sylvia gave me a day of tutelage. I appreciate her help. I am a long way from a beautiful artisan loaf, but I can make a passable nutritious loaf. So right now the Ken stories are morphing to Ken used to and I am learning to…