To Cook or Not to Cook…That is the Question
Someone wise suggested I learn to cook. So, I’ve put myself on a “10-year study plan”. I’m currently, in the “Contemplative Stage” — still thinking about it. Just “marinating” my motivation; “stirring” my curiosity; “basting” my intentions; and “stuffing” myself with enthusiasm. Why cook? My mother barely cooked. Her specialty was “Beef Mexicana”, which is, basically, a big pot of sloppy Joe, or chopped beef with tomato paste, canned corn and sautéed onions. My sisters don’t cook, either. Maybe it’s genetic.
I’m told cooking can be soothing and is the most basic way of nurturing the human spirit. I imagine it teaches patience and frustration tolerance. I prefer to nurture my spirit by running, biking, swimming, writing and reading. Frankly, it’s exhausting being me. And I’m too tired to cook.
I do have five cookbooks. One of them, I actually bought. The rest I’ve acquired from hopeful friends. I greet them on the bookshelf, every few years, by blowing off the dust: Hello — hwhooh!
Problematically, I have a kitchen the size of a phone booth. Maybe the size of a shower stall in a cheap motel, or an airplane restroom. It’s compact.
Each wall is one bent arm’s reach from the center, in each direction. Step inside this tiny pod and you have, on the left, a small kitchen sink, just large enough for my small pot. Just to the right of that, a little space for a knee-high garbage pail. Then, swivel to the right and you’re at the linoleum counter, with Mr. Coffee, on the left, in the front. Behind that, there’s a small stove — well, really, it’s a 2-burner electric hot plate, which tucks into a nook, to the left, under a small corner shelf, so if you carefully pull the Mr. Coffee forward a smidge, just over the edge of the counter, and then pull the burner out to the right, towards the center of the counter, you can use one of the burners — it’s all plugged in, ready to go. I know one of them still works — I sauté onions on it, once or twice a year, to add to canned chick peas. The toaster oven is conveniently located Back/Center, in front of which is a patch of counter space, where there’s just enough prepping area…for one large dish of chick peas or a small cutting board of onions.
On the right sits the convection oven, which is now merely a large, dusty decoration. My boyfriend continues to tell me to get rid of it, because I don’t use it. So what? I want it, in case I’m inspired. I think it still works.
On the right side of the kitchen pod is a short filing cabinet, full of important papers and old cell phones waiting to be recycled, on top of which sits baked blue corn chips, whole wheat pretzels, organic “quick” oatmeal, raisins, granola, bananas and the overflow of grocery bags, which of course I save for garbage. Some people actually buy garbage bags, which is lavishly un-green and wasteful but, hey, you can’t force people to think, can you? Ok, I have a box of bought garbage bags, too. I’m keeping them for some future bag shortage.
There are three wall cabinets for storage — one is above the sink, where I keep some spices, bought when I was in college, in the late 70’s, just in case I ever want to make curry, or chili, or rosemary potatoes, some day. I have an air popper for popcorn, last used in the 1980’s, a huge stash of light bulbs, and some clean rags and take out menus, with all my favorite exotic treats. The two cabinets above the toaster and convection oven hold a variety of dishes, glasses, a coffee grinder and a cheese grater. Do people actually use cheese graters? I used it once and was bleeding all over the Parmesan. Still, I haven’t thrown the thing out. Then, below the counter is some storage space for sodas, pots, extra linen and potting soil. Isn’t that where everybody keeps that stuff?
They call this an efficiency kitchen. Well, yes, it’s an efficient place to store things. The refrigerator is in the entryway between the front door and the single main room, just across from the kitchen booth. It’s not quite full size, maybe a three-quarter sized fridge. Thankfully, the landlord upgraded my half-sized fridge, after it mysteriously broke…while I was hammering the ice off the freezer, to hurry along the defrosting process, so the milk wouldn’t go bad.
Recently, I decided to cook some hard-boiled eggs. My mission: to save them from spoiling. I was cleaning out the fridge, and realized that the dozen eggs I had bought to start getting more protein and fewer carbs, were still sitting in there, after two weeks, or two months…or two years — I really wasn’t sure. What’s an egg’s life cycle in a refrigerator?
How long are they supposed to boil? Ten minutes? Maybe. Extra time if they’re older? I don’t know. I don’t want to die from old eggs I couldn’t even taste, as they ebolized me! If I’m hoping to live to 120, I’ll need to cook them through.
So I Google: Making hard-boiled eggs. Wow. A variety of techniques. There were about 1,170,000 results. Essentially, you’d think it’s all the same but the absolute confidence and passion of each hard-boiled egg recipe writer was kind of surprising to me. I was looking for: put in water, boil for twenty minutes, eat. I really just wanted confirmation of this simple recipe. Well, apparently, there’s an art to boiling an egg.
There are those that add vinegar to the water, supposedly to keep the yoke in the center and round. Is a round or centered yoke important? The down side? One recipe writer insists that vinegar keeps the shells from cracking, but should be used only if you don’t mind the taste of the vinegar. How would you taste the vinegar if it keeps the shells from cracking? Can you taste the vinegar outside the shell? And, she went on to state, vinegar actually improves taste. She adds even more vinegar. To me, that’s like saying, I couldn’t clean off the fertilizer from the vegetables, so I just added some more. Blecch.
I came up with a really good way of getting the eggs into the pot (which they call saucepan — why? — I’m not cooking sauce. Just eggs.) Put the egg on a soupspoon and put it against the inside wall of the pot, then lower it down, slowly, against the side, to the hot water. Or, following the instructions: put them in BEFORE the water. Wow. That would’ve been easier. Some might even say, “Common sense.” I really hate the words “common sense”. It’s like saying, “This is commonly known by everyone, except you.”
Recently, I’ve been told the eggs don’t crack if you put them into cold water, and let them slowly heat with the water. By the time I read through all these recipes, another week had passed, so I just chucked them and went to a diner. Over-easy, with whole-wheat toast and home fries.
But, hey, at one time, I did like to bake. Well, I have baked before. When I started dating my Mr. Handsome-Military-Man, I baked him cookies, and sent him a care package to Germany where he was deployed. To be honest, my chocolate chip health cookies are an acquired taste. Dunking them in milk helps. He ate my cookies and won my heart. He still asks for them, “You used to make me cookies. What happened?” That’s why he gets to live with me.
I had always wanted to try to make cookies but in a healthy version — starting with no fat. So I cut out the butter. I was doing triathlons at the time and very conscious of my nutrition. So, I used only enough butter to grease the pan, and only whole-wheat pastry flour and whole-wheat regular flour. I don’t know why all cookies aren’t made with whole grain flour. Enriched flour is just completely non-nutritious. Everyone knows that.
I like my chocolate chip cookies crunchy, so I would cook them a little extra, to brown them slightly.
I call them “moon rocks” — millions of miles, light-years, from even a drop of moisture, and not for those with sensitive or weak teeth. As a bonus, they can also be used to remove foot callouses.
I’ve since perfected the recipe to save on dental bills, with some extra egg whites and water. But somehow, with the tepid reviews and both veiled and outright complaints from friends and colleagues, I’ve lost interest in baking, and have found I prefer the buttery kind…made by someone else.
I’m most proud of my melted-cheese-on-toast recipe. It’s my favorite kind of recipe because the ingredients are all right in the title. My cookie-eater complains I’m trying to kill him with the cholesterol, even though it’s reduced-fat cheese. Still, I’d say this is my most successful dish, so far. I just keep the fire extinguisher handy.
