kitchen discoveries

Evidence that the holidays were over could be seen in my fridge. Opening the fridge's door late Dec. 25, I saw remains of deliciously decadent items that typically never make their way into my kitchen the other days of the year. There was a half-empty container of whipping cream, a leggy tuft of flat-leaf Italian parsley and a pile of crumpled aluminum foil packets- each packet contain a grouping of Christmas cookies.
Just a few days ago, the fridge looked like it was bulging at the seams with all sorts of goodies but on that night, I searched through the leftover bits of exotic food stuffs and in despair realized not only did I not have a drop of milk for cereal the next day but the only thing I could take to work for lunch was an apple.
My heart sunk not only at my pitful noontime meal but at the realization that holidays were really over and it was time to get back to work; plus I needed to head over to the grocery store and buy some sensible items.
The season may have flown by, but it was still fun while it lasted. I  happily spent most of the afternoon on Christmas Eve making dinner for my parents and I. It's become tradition for me host dinner on Christmas Eve and I was extremely excited to be making a veal stew. I choose this particular recipe from my Martha Stewart cookbook because the picture caught my eye.
It looked beautiful, this stew. The veal and the spring-time green fava beans and peas bobbled in a buttery broth that looked sunny and golden.
Sometimes Martha's recipes intimidate me and I have to go with one of her easier, more elementary meals but this one I figured I could handled.
Still, I had to turn to my mother for a cheese cloth, something that never, ever appears in my kitchen no matter what time of year it is.
That recipe had me doing things I've never done before. Making spice bundles, sifting broth from one pot to another, straining in cream and simmering a stew for an hour are all new to me. It's a big departure for someone who, because she doesn't own a jar opener and there is no one else around to ask to have a go at removing a lid to a jar of pasta sauce, will stab a hole in the lid with a knife to get the sauce out.
Maybe that's why something looked off everytime I peered into the stew pot. The broth wasn't a warm, golden color - it was a dull grey. It reminded me of the chicken al la king recipe my mother would make when my sister and I were kids. A good meal, but nothing that resembled that pretty picture in the cookbook.
In the end, the stew was OK, and my parents were polite and good sports about having to eat a milky grey meal. I slumped in my chair a bit for having failed Christmas Eve dinner but cheered myself when I remembered how much fun I had in the kitchen, exploring culinary techniques that were previously unknown to me.
What truly made me happy, however, was my parents really loved the appetizer I made. It did not come from a cookbook - it was something I made up a little bit ago. I toast slices of bread in olive oil and top them with red and yellow peppers that are garnish in cilantro and salt. It's easy and I make it constantly.
It feels pretty good to know that while Martha's cooking maybe out of my league, it doesn't really matter; my cooking is good enough.

Despite my lackluster meal - the company was excellent!

Comments

Popular Posts