On the surface of things, there were no overt signs that I would ever become a professional cook. I’ve only come to appreciate any early, subtle triggers in hindsight. So many of our tastes and habits stem from the rituals we participate in at a young age, especially those that involve food. For many chefs, these rituals act as catalysts, informing their career paths. These memories are so strong that we are constantly looking to feed a hunger for nostalgia, both for ourselves and for those we cook for. In particular, as a pastry chef, I’ve come to appreciate the subtle and not so subtle roles sweetness plays in our lives.
One of my favorite childhood traditions took place each year, on a snowy afternoon in December. The four of us—Mom, Dad, my sister, and me—would pore through the dog-eared collection of cookbooks and handwritten recipe cards in the cupboard, and we’d each choose our favorite cookie recipes. Then we’d commence production: Dad measured, Amy and I mixed, and then Mom navigated the endless trays of dough in and out of the ovens. As a half dozen or more varieties cooled on every available inch of counter space, the windows would begin to fog, and the whole house was awash with the scent of all that freshly baked goodness. Over the coming days these cookies would be divided into parcels to be delivered to friends, family and neighbors. With any luck, our own personal stash would hold out until at least Christmas Eve. Even amidst the rush and clatter of a professional kitchen, I occasionally channel that feeling of anticipation and collective effort when reflecting upon an oven full of pastry.
Read on for more on Chef Michael's holiday memories and recipe for Triple Chocolate Cookies.