Why I Don’t Cook

When I returned from my recent adventure in Vermont, I was feeling motivated to eat as healthy as possible.  I also triggered an addiction to lobster, having stopped in Boston on both the way there and the way back, indulging in lobster rolls in both directions.

As such, I got out my favorite cookbook, “The Ultra-Metabolism Cookbook” and found myself drooling over the Lobster Fra Diavalo recipe.

By luck, my noon meeting cancelled and I managed to spend lunch at the grocery store.  I bought the provisions necessary for a 3-course meal–salad, entree, and dessert.

When my day had mostly wrapped up (I did have one evening conference call with some folks in Australia, but it didn’t last long), I started cooking.

Now, this is a rather rare phenomenon.  Finding me in the kitchen usually means I’m making coffee, eating yogurt straight out of the carton, or perhaps doing something as creative as making a smoothie.  But on this night, I was undertaking making 3 courses all for the same meal.

I started thawing the lobster tails for the Lobster Fra Diavalo.  I made pomegranate salad dressing and prepped the salad.  I put on wild rice to cook without fully reading the instructions (quite the risk taker).  I served the salad around 8PM, right after my conference call was over.  Not bad if you ignore the fact I’d started prepping around 5:30PM.

I thought I’d started the rice too late, but then I realized the sauce for the lobster had to cook down, so then my rice was going to be done too early.  I turned up the heat on the diavalo sauce in the hope of reducing it faster.  While it cooked, I made up some chocolate sauce from a New Life Hiking Spa recipe available on their website.  I was going to serve banana “ice cream” and chocolate sauce for dessert.

Note the time in the photo of the lobster cooking on the stove.  At 9:17, I was still trying to reduce the sauce.  We ate our lobster at 9:30.  It was actually quite good, if I do say so myself.  But, can lobster ever really taste bad?

Next, I took frozen bananas out of the freezer only to discover they weren’t really frozen all the way.  I decided to try to make the dessert anyway.  I put them in the blender and tried to puree them into an ice cream consistency.  Between their unfrozen state and my crappy blender, they came out more of a pudding consistency.  I enjoyed it anyway.  My husband wasn’t so keen on the dessert.  The chocolate sauce was tasty, but sweetened with maple syrup (not from Vermont), it was a little too mapley for him.

All in all, I invested about 5 hours of my time between planning, shopping, cooking, eating, and cleaning up for this one healthy meal.  I texted my friend that I now understand why I have time to workout–I don’t cook.

Yes, I Can Cook

After many days, weeks, or maybe even months of pleasantly letting trivial little disagreements slide by, suddenly some little nothing seems so important that we go to great lengths to prove we’re right.
Pat and I recently had a conversation that started when a new acquaintance offered to give me a recipe even though Pat was standing right next to me.

Later, when we chuckled about how often people erroneously assume I would be more interested in a recipe than Pat, I felt the need to remind my husband that I used to feed myself quite well. The conversation went like this:

“I can cook!” said I.
“Since when?” said he.
“I used to cook all the time.”
“Honey, what you did is called warming ingredients. You can’t really cook.”

I, who take great pride in my grilled cheese masterpieces as well as my incredibly fluffy scrambled eggs, decided I was going to have to dig deep to find photographic evidence that U have more than basic warming skills.

Thankfully, the first Thanksgiving after I got my trusty old PowerShot G3 was also the first (and last) Thanksgiving we invited Pat’s family to our house and I did the cooking.

Some may argue that having to go back 9 years might seem more like evidence that you can’t cook (especially since no one came back). However, I contend that everything in that meal was delicious, from the assorted cheeses and crudités for starters to the perfectly roasted turkey, to the freshly baked pumpkin pie. Oh, wait, Pat’s mom made the pie. And probably the stuffing. Pat made the mashed potatoes. But I, and I alone, made the turkey, the gravy, the green bean casserole, the vegetables, and the sweet potatoes.

Huh.

Funny thing . . . I just realized I really did just heat all the ingredients. Don’t tell Pat.

As I was looking at the photos, I recall seeing a show on photographing food. I believe it was actually a show on careers and the career was “food make up artist.”

The food make up artist demonstrated making a fast food burger look good. It was quite clever. She was required to use the same portion of food as is actually used to make the product we buy. However,she kept the burger looking huge by simply searing it just long enough to turn it brown, but not cooking away the fat, keeping it from shrinking. Then, she split it in the back so she could spread the burger out to fill out the front. By shooting at a low angle from the front, the burger not only looked bigger, but all the stuff she’d dome to make it look that way was completely out of sight.

Explains a lot about those fast food burgers.

I think my turkey might not look so appealing because it tasted good. To make it really beautiful, it would have had to have been raw inside.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.