Cooking up some good times
Cooking and I have an evolving relationship that both soars and plummets. There are days when I chop or sautee or heat up the oven that just feel glorious. Time gets put on a brief pause and my mind will be released from any thoughts other than the next step in the recipe. Cooking becomes a mental vacation; there are no nagging thoughts or anxieties and when the dish is completed, I walk out of the kitchen feeling refreshed.
Of course, there are the other days, too. The experiences when I am all-too aware of the time and just want the darn meal to be done already. The saying, a watch pot never boils, will swirl in my mind but doesn't prevent me from glaring at the crockpot or stovetop that doesn't seem to be doing its job.
Today, Christmas Eve, gave me an early Christmas present. I got the gift of a great time in the kitchen. It's tradition for my parents to come over to my home for Christmas Eve dinner. While I've always enjoyed hosting the get-together, I've been looking forward to this year's dinner since October. Probably because this meal sticks out from all the others I make 364 days a year. This meal, unlike others, is thoughtfully planned out, is something I would typically never consider making at any other time of the year, and I do the shopping at Whole Foods. I consider Whole Foods an extravagant grocery store - where the produce never looks spoiled or limp and there is never a chance you will not find every item on your list, no matter how odd-ball it may be. What also makes Christmas Eve dinner unique is I get started on it early.
My first thought when I opened my eyes this morning was making the sauce for the carne adovada. So at 9:30 a.m. I was in the kitchen, merrily chopping stems off dried, deep burgundy chile pods and scraping out seeds that rattled in the pods' interiors. The pods eventually would be turned in soupy puree that was the most spectacular shade of red I've ever seen. A little while later this red chile sauce would cover cubes of pork in my crockpot.
Things really turned up a notch at this point because I donned my apron and turned on my iPod to listen to Julie Powell read her book, "Julie/Julia." I love that audio book but I love it even more when I myself am in the kitchen. We are suddenly in the same boat, the author and I, two kitchen warriors battling culinary challenges.
Anyway, as Julie Powell recounted her experiences cooking lobsters and my carne adovada cooked in the crockpot, I went on to make posole and the fixings for guacamole. It hit me as I was chopping up the pale, cream-colored garlic cloves that this particular herb perfectly captures my relationship with cooking within its papery skin.
When I first started cooking, I was too intimidated and too lazy to bother even including garlic in meals. After many a bland meal, I learned maybe I was wrong to exclude it. Peeling and chopping garlic was a nuisance; its skin maybe paper-thin but there were sure a lot of layers and every one of them stubbornly stuck together. I would chip chunks out of cloves trying to free the garlic and the end result looked mutilated. Watching my sister and cooking show hosts on TV taught me if you place the clove under a large knife and smack the blade with the heal of your palm, the process is much more successful. Observing my mother run her knife again and again and again through pieces of garlic helped me understand how you can get those pieces nice and miniature.
Yes, I smiled when I looked down at my successfully peeled and chopped garlic this afternoon. Look how far we've come, I thought. We've grown, my cooking and I and I must say it's been a beautiful relationship.
Of course, there are the other days, too. The experiences when I am all-too aware of the time and just want the darn meal to be done already. The saying, a watch pot never boils, will swirl in my mind but doesn't prevent me from glaring at the crockpot or stovetop that doesn't seem to be doing its job.
Today, Christmas Eve, gave me an early Christmas present. I got the gift of a great time in the kitchen. It's tradition for my parents to come over to my home for Christmas Eve dinner. While I've always enjoyed hosting the get-together, I've been looking forward to this year's dinner since October. Probably because this meal sticks out from all the others I make 364 days a year. This meal, unlike others, is thoughtfully planned out, is something I would typically never consider making at any other time of the year, and I do the shopping at Whole Foods. I consider Whole Foods an extravagant grocery store - where the produce never looks spoiled or limp and there is never a chance you will not find every item on your list, no matter how odd-ball it may be. What also makes Christmas Eve dinner unique is I get started on it early.
My first thought when I opened my eyes this morning was making the sauce for the carne adovada. So at 9:30 a.m. I was in the kitchen, merrily chopping stems off dried, deep burgundy chile pods and scraping out seeds that rattled in the pods' interiors. The pods eventually would be turned in soupy puree that was the most spectacular shade of red I've ever seen. A little while later this red chile sauce would cover cubes of pork in my crockpot.
Things really turned up a notch at this point because I donned my apron and turned on my iPod to listen to Julie Powell read her book, "Julie/Julia." I love that audio book but I love it even more when I myself am in the kitchen. We are suddenly in the same boat, the author and I, two kitchen warriors battling culinary challenges.
Anyway, as Julie Powell recounted her experiences cooking lobsters and my carne adovada cooked in the crockpot, I went on to make posole and the fixings for guacamole. It hit me as I was chopping up the pale, cream-colored garlic cloves that this particular herb perfectly captures my relationship with cooking within its papery skin.
When I first started cooking, I was too intimidated and too lazy to bother even including garlic in meals. After many a bland meal, I learned maybe I was wrong to exclude it. Peeling and chopping garlic was a nuisance; its skin maybe paper-thin but there were sure a lot of layers and every one of them stubbornly stuck together. I would chip chunks out of cloves trying to free the garlic and the end result looked mutilated. Watching my sister and cooking show hosts on TV taught me if you place the clove under a large knife and smack the blade with the heal of your palm, the process is much more successful. Observing my mother run her knife again and again and again through pieces of garlic helped me understand how you can get those pieces nice and miniature.
Yes, I smiled when I looked down at my successfully peeled and chopped garlic this afternoon. Look how far we've come, I thought. We've grown, my cooking and I and I must say it's been a beautiful relationship.
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| This the first Christmas Eve dinner I hosted for the folks |
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