PART 2 Family Celebration Summer 2010
The Californians in the family planned and executed the second large family meal in my family's days-long summer anniversary celebration, this time held at the folks' house where they were staying. My brother Dave and his wife Nancy, recently moved from Texas to the LA area, have used their time wisely by finding farmer's markets. Admittedly, when you live in California, it's probably hard NOT to find a fresh-food stand of some sort. However, the lucky folks live just minutes away from a market that is open several days a week. One of the things they have fallen in love with are homemade whole-wheat tortillas, sold fresh at this market. So they decided to master-mind a meal centering on these delicious whole wheat tortillas---which they bought in bulk, planning to carry them on the plane to Colorado. Unfortunately, they somehow managed to leave them in their freezer at home. Not to be deterred, Nancy found the tortilla makers online and had a large quantity delivered to the folks' house in Colorado the day before their planned meal.
The meal was to be fajitas, with grilled marinated chicken, sauteed peppers and onions, and trimmings. Gina, the plan-ahead cook, assisted by providing two crock-pot side dishes of rice and beans, which turned out fabulously. Miraculously, from Gina's kitchen a large cut-up watermelon somehow appeared, apparently sliced and diced well in advance of the fajita dinner. Because fajitas are a more last-minute meal, we all got involved in the preparation. There was lots of slicing of onions and peppers to be done. Dave was dispatched to the grill at the appropriate time to watch over the chicken, and what do you know? When someone stands over the grill, the meat does not get burned or scorched or dried out or any of those nasty side effects of negligent grilling that tend to occur at my house.
The jewels of the meal of course were the tender, flavorful FRESH whole wheat tortillas straight from California. They were like none I had eaten before---none of that chewy, nondescript non-flavor that characterizes the average tortilla from the grocery store. Paired with the deliciously flavored and perfectly grilled chicken, topped with the veggies and sauces, the fajitas rivaled any at a top quality restaurant.
After all that delicious food, we still managed somehow to find room for the two cakes, chocolate and lemon, which had been lovingly offered to our parents by some friends for the occasion. It was short order to get the meal cleaned up with all the people milling around looking for tasks, though there was some mild squabbling about how to dispose of the plastic disposable plates---rinse? recycle? reuse? No matter, it gave more time for fun and opinion sharing and silliness in the kitchen which makes any job go faster.
There was some debate about how to use the left-over tortillas to their best advantage, as there was not much chicken and veggie filling left for future fajita meals. Nancy recommended keeping it short and simple----warm one up, butter it and put cinnamon and sugar in it. Then eat it while it is hot and fresh.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Welcome Home Feast, American Style
Part I of Family Celebration, Summer 2010
For the occasion of my parents' 55th wedding anniversary, my three siblings with our spouses and children (except for some young adult males) gathered in Colorado for several days of family fun. As is usual for family occasions, especially a Socolofsky gathering, food figured largely in the celebration plans The number of diners varied from between 17-20, depending on the meal, so we planned food that was relatively simple and would please most in any crowd. Each of the three large meals we shared reflected the talents and preferences of the "Head Host."
For the first evening, we gathered at my sister's house. She and I had worked during the day to do some final preparation for the meal, which was the quintessential American summer picnic menu. It was the perfect welcome home dinner for our daughter, Jen, who had arrived back in the states the day before from a six-month study-abroad experience in the Netherlands. She added a flavor of Holland to the meal with several Dutch cheeses she had bought a few days before from the open-air cheese stand in the Leiden market. She was excited to have some of the traditional American foods, some of which she had to describe to her international friends while she was abroad (what are deviled eggs???)
What you should know about my sister, Gina, is that she is a do-ahead cook. She likes to plan food that can be prepared in advance and be ready with just a stir or an addition of an ingredient; or food that can be made in a crock pot early in the day; or desserts that can be baked or frozen ahead of time. Once the advance prep is done, she is free to clean up the kitchen, lay out the serving dishes, and not be troubled by last minute preparation and mess.
By the time I arrived, the evening before the picnic menu, she had already done a majority of the preparation. She had boiled and cubed all the potatoes for a potato salad, hard boiled the eggs and made the dressing; all that was required was mixing the parts together. The eggs for the deviled eggs had likewise been boiled, and only needed stuffing. The two ice cream desserts were already in the freezer. We put beans in the crock pot, and she had her husband out on the patio grilling the burgers well before the guests arrived. The grilled patties were then stored in another crock pot till ready to serve.
It's a good thing all this was done ahead, as I had brought along three dozen ears of Iowa sweet corn for the meal. Several people pitched in to shuck and clean the corn, but boiling all those ears took numerous pans. As they were done, I transferred them to a cake pan coated with butter, and rolled each ear in the butter, added salt and pepper, then piled them in a roasting pan placed on a warming tray. The pre-buttering reduced the mess and delay in a serving line for all the diners. There was a little bit of last-minute preparation involved in slicing and arranging relishes on a tray for the burgers. But by the time the rest of the family arrived, we had everything ready and laid out. Barely had people walked in the door than we were gathered for the blessing and sent through the line for the food.
A quick survey of left-overs showed that there wasn't much to store and put away. There was a bunch of corn, which a couple of us worked to remove from the cobs and put into freezer containers. The dishes went in the dishwasher, the pans were washed, and we all had a chance to sit down with each other and look at photos, listen to Jen share her travel stories, and let the younger kids watch a movie together. It was nice not having to spend hours in the kitchen after the meal cleaning up, since so much had been done earlier in the day and week. We got to have our cooking fun together with the few things that needed last minute preparation, and no one minded that the hamburgers weren't flipped onto the buns straight from the grill. It was a study in American epicurean efficiency, and a fitting Welcome Home Feast for any traveler.
For the occasion of my parents' 55th wedding anniversary, my three siblings with our spouses and children (except for some young adult males) gathered in Colorado for several days of family fun. As is usual for family occasions, especially a Socolofsky gathering, food figured largely in the celebration plans The number of diners varied from between 17-20, depending on the meal, so we planned food that was relatively simple and would please most in any crowd. Each of the three large meals we shared reflected the talents and preferences of the "Head Host."
For the first evening, we gathered at my sister's house. She and I had worked during the day to do some final preparation for the meal, which was the quintessential American summer picnic menu. It was the perfect welcome home dinner for our daughter, Jen, who had arrived back in the states the day before from a six-month study-abroad experience in the Netherlands. She added a flavor of Holland to the meal with several Dutch cheeses she had bought a few days before from the open-air cheese stand in the Leiden market. She was excited to have some of the traditional American foods, some of which she had to describe to her international friends while she was abroad (what are deviled eggs???)
What you should know about my sister, Gina, is that she is a do-ahead cook. She likes to plan food that can be prepared in advance and be ready with just a stir or an addition of an ingredient; or food that can be made in a crock pot early in the day; or desserts that can be baked or frozen ahead of time. Once the advance prep is done, she is free to clean up the kitchen, lay out the serving dishes, and not be troubled by last minute preparation and mess.
By the time I arrived, the evening before the picnic menu, she had already done a majority of the preparation. She had boiled and cubed all the potatoes for a potato salad, hard boiled the eggs and made the dressing; all that was required was mixing the parts together. The eggs for the deviled eggs had likewise been boiled, and only needed stuffing. The two ice cream desserts were already in the freezer. We put beans in the crock pot, and she had her husband out on the patio grilling the burgers well before the guests arrived. The grilled patties were then stored in another crock pot till ready to serve.
It's a good thing all this was done ahead, as I had brought along three dozen ears of Iowa sweet corn for the meal. Several people pitched in to shuck and clean the corn, but boiling all those ears took numerous pans. As they were done, I transferred them to a cake pan coated with butter, and rolled each ear in the butter, added salt and pepper, then piled them in a roasting pan placed on a warming tray. The pre-buttering reduced the mess and delay in a serving line for all the diners. There was a little bit of last-minute preparation involved in slicing and arranging relishes on a tray for the burgers. But by the time the rest of the family arrived, we had everything ready and laid out. Barely had people walked in the door than we were gathered for the blessing and sent through the line for the food.
A quick survey of left-overs showed that there wasn't much to store and put away. There was a bunch of corn, which a couple of us worked to remove from the cobs and put into freezer containers. The dishes went in the dishwasher, the pans were washed, and we all had a chance to sit down with each other and look at photos, listen to Jen share her travel stories, and let the younger kids watch a movie together. It was nice not having to spend hours in the kitchen after the meal cleaning up, since so much had been done earlier in the day and week. We got to have our cooking fun together with the few things that needed last minute preparation, and no one minded that the hamburgers weren't flipped onto the buns straight from the grill. It was a study in American epicurean efficiency, and a fitting Welcome Home Feast for any traveler.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Farmer's Market
There's nothing quite like a Farmer's Market to get me inspired to cook dinner. Iowa is blessed by numerous farmer's markets---in fact, it has more per capita than just about any other state. This is a reflection of the rich agricultural climate and heritage of the state, as well as the growing movement of "Buy Local". But perhaps the abundance is also due to our desire to Stick It To the Old Man Winter. Nothing says spring has arrived and summer is imminent like a farmer's market.
Des Moines holds the largest market in the state every week from the beginning of May through mid-October. It is like a street fair, with entertainment and craft booths meshing with the vegetable and fruit stalls. It is busy and vibrant---and also 30 minutes away by car from my house. So I am fortunate that my small suburb also boasts a weekly market for the same period of time. It is a microcosm of the large downtown market---a few craft booths, a BBQ stand, Kettle Korn popcorn, cinnamon crusted nuts, baked goods, plus the vegetable and fruit stands.
The vegetable stands inspire me. Whatever they offer will be on the table sometime in the next few days. A typical late spring "take" might yield sauteed vegetables (broccoli, green onions, early zucchini, yellow squash, snow peas) and fresh strawberries, served with Bacon-Lettuce-Tomato sandwiches with lettuce, tomato, and fresh bread from the market. Those same veggies the next night might morph into a vegetable-pesto pasta topped with goat cheese and served with the fresh bread and a tossed green salad.
One vegetable farmer warned his customers recently that this was the last of the lettuce. Buying and eating locally produced food means you are at the mercy of the seasonality of a crop. Lettuces and tender greens are cool-weather crops and as the days get hotter, become bitter and tough. Rhubarb and asparagus bear their bizarre stalks perenially in the spring, but then gradually fade away. Sweet sugar snap and snow peas disappear in the late spring and may reappear in the early fall. But the tender spring vegetables give way to the kings of summer produce: sweet corn, green beans, zucchini, squash, onions, melons, cucumbers, peppers, and tomatoes. With their arrival, new dishes appear on the table which make you forget the loss of the peas and lettuce. As the weather cools, and you know you can't think of another thing to make with corn and tomatoes, the pumpkins and potatoes and apples appear, along with a short resurgence of carrots, peas, and greens.
Luckily for me, my family appreciates fresh vegetables. They humor my announcing where the veggies came from, as if I were an antiques dealer recounting an object's provenance. I want them to know that not only are they enjoying my delicious cooking, they are appreciating the hard work and dedication of a local farmer who got up early that morning and picked those peas and broccoli and lettuce. It tastes better knowing those veggies soaked up the same sunshine and rain we did just a few days before.
Des Moines holds the largest market in the state every week from the beginning of May through mid-October. It is like a street fair, with entertainment and craft booths meshing with the vegetable and fruit stalls. It is busy and vibrant---and also 30 minutes away by car from my house. So I am fortunate that my small suburb also boasts a weekly market for the same period of time. It is a microcosm of the large downtown market---a few craft booths, a BBQ stand, Kettle Korn popcorn, cinnamon crusted nuts, baked goods, plus the vegetable and fruit stands.
The vegetable stands inspire me. Whatever they offer will be on the table sometime in the next few days. A typical late spring "take" might yield sauteed vegetables (broccoli, green onions, early zucchini, yellow squash, snow peas) and fresh strawberries, served with Bacon-Lettuce-Tomato sandwiches with lettuce, tomato, and fresh bread from the market. Those same veggies the next night might morph into a vegetable-pesto pasta topped with goat cheese and served with the fresh bread and a tossed green salad.
One vegetable farmer warned his customers recently that this was the last of the lettuce. Buying and eating locally produced food means you are at the mercy of the seasonality of a crop. Lettuces and tender greens are cool-weather crops and as the days get hotter, become bitter and tough. Rhubarb and asparagus bear their bizarre stalks perenially in the spring, but then gradually fade away. Sweet sugar snap and snow peas disappear in the late spring and may reappear in the early fall. But the tender spring vegetables give way to the kings of summer produce: sweet corn, green beans, zucchini, squash, onions, melons, cucumbers, peppers, and tomatoes. With their arrival, new dishes appear on the table which make you forget the loss of the peas and lettuce. As the weather cools, and you know you can't think of another thing to make with corn and tomatoes, the pumpkins and potatoes and apples appear, along with a short resurgence of carrots, peas, and greens.
Luckily for me, my family appreciates fresh vegetables. They humor my announcing where the veggies came from, as if I were an antiques dealer recounting an object's provenance. I want them to know that not only are they enjoying my delicious cooking, they are appreciating the hard work and dedication of a local farmer who got up early that morning and picked those peas and broccoli and lettuce. It tastes better knowing those veggies soaked up the same sunshine and rain we did just a few days before.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Graduation Open House
The rules for food for the open house were simple: No Forks, No Dips, No Handfuls, and as much do-able ahead of time as possible. Other than that, the menu options were wide open.
In the suburban Midwest, the High School Graduation Open House is a big deal. It follows a fairly standard formula: invite family, friends and neighbors to a come-and-go party where the honored Graduate greets you at the front door, you sign her memory book, you shuffle past displays and scrapbooks noting her development and achievements over the past 18 years, and you end at the food table.
You are never sure how to gauge your appetite at these events: if you show up hungry for real food, there might just be cookies and cake and nuts and punch. If you eat lunch first, there might be pork sandwiches and bean dip. If you go to several in a row, you feel you should regulate your eating so you can have a little something at each event. But at the end of the day, you might have had the same pulled pork sandwich 5 times, or 5 pieces of cake and nothing else.
For our daughter's graduation party, I would like to say that we did something different. But it was as expected on many fronts: people came and went, greeted her at the front door, signed her book, looked at her displays (which were impressive if I do say so) and ended at the food table. The food table is what I hoped would be more of a novelty, though I can't expect to compete with the best food table I ever saw at a graduation party a couple of years ago: Lebanese specialties hand-made by the Lebanese grandma and aunties who arranged it on a gorgeous table like a Bacchanalian feast.
Never mind, I was not to be deterred or intimidated by what other people did or expected. We would do it our way, the way it worked for us. We chose a mid-morning to early afternoon time frame, so as to beat the rush of parties held later in the day, and so we could serve a brunch style menu (no expectation of pulled pork at this party). I began baking and freezing several weeks ahead of the date. By the time the big weekend rolled around, I had loaves of banana bread, poppy seed bread, batches of mini-quiches, and pans of maple bars, pecan pie bars, and lemon bars in the freezer. On the day before, I whipped up a double batch of cappuccino mini-muffins and a pan of brownies, which could not be squeezed into the overloaded freezer. My mom helped slice summer sausage and three kinds of cheese, and peeled 3 dozen boiled eggs for deviled eggs. We both cut up fruit (cantaloupe, strawberries) and put a piece of each, plus a fat blueberry, on cute plastic picks. The morning of the party, I mixed the deviled egg mixture and filled the dozens of eggs. I wrapped little smoked sausages in refrigerated crescent roll dough to bake as piggies in a blanket. My daughter had mixed and frozen the base for a fruit punch, which we placed in a decorative self-serve spigoted urn, poured lemon-lime soda over it, and floated pineapples and cherries in it. I brewed several pots of coffee for the Air Pots, made a pitcher of iced tea and floated lemons in iced water in a pretty pitcher.
The night before the party, I stayed up after the home-stay guests had gone to bed and laid out all the serving ware with sticky notes to tell what was to be placed on each. When my sister-in-law arrived to help, it was easy to direct her to the pans of bars or bread and ask her to arrange them on plates. We all scurried to get the rest of the food arranged on the platters, which all fit on the gold-clothed kitchen table, a simple potted yellow mum serving as the centerpiece. The drinks fit handily onto the side bar in the kitchen. The only paper goods we needed were beverage size napkins and small plates, plus paper hot-cold cups. No big buckets of ice full of slippery pop cans, no messy dips that people could stick food into, no bowls of munchies or nuts or candy that allowed hands to reach into, no gloppy pieces of cake that required forks and separate plates, no punch bowls with drippy servers: everything was finger-food, self-serve and tidy. Guests could also have a little bite or make a meal of it, depending on the status of their appetite---it was a well-rounded meal if you ate a little bit of everything.
By the end of the party, there were crumbs on the floor, trash cans full of paper plates and cups, and partially to completely empty platters. There remained no piggies in blankets, few deviled eggs, and just small amounts of bread and bars. There was a bit of sausage and cheese left, and about 1/4 a batch of quiches, plus some leftover fruit skewers. We ran out of fizzy soda to pour over the punch and had to improvise with club soda and fruit juice. There had been no complaints and many compliments about the food.
What made my hostess heart happy, though, was to see that people hung around to visit with my daughter, to admire her displays, then to go on and enjoy the food while visiting with other guests. No one seemed in a hurry to leave, except other graduates who were on the party circuit and had serious schedules to follow in order to meet all their social obligations. That's when the highly grabbable and portable cappuccino mini-muffin was a hot commodity---as in "Oooh, cappuccino muffins! Thanks, see you later!"
In the suburban Midwest, the High School Graduation Open House is a big deal. It follows a fairly standard formula: invite family, friends and neighbors to a come-and-go party where the honored Graduate greets you at the front door, you sign her memory book, you shuffle past displays and scrapbooks noting her development and achievements over the past 18 years, and you end at the food table.
You are never sure how to gauge your appetite at these events: if you show up hungry for real food, there might just be cookies and cake and nuts and punch. If you eat lunch first, there might be pork sandwiches and bean dip. If you go to several in a row, you feel you should regulate your eating so you can have a little something at each event. But at the end of the day, you might have had the same pulled pork sandwich 5 times, or 5 pieces of cake and nothing else.
For our daughter's graduation party, I would like to say that we did something different. But it was as expected on many fronts: people came and went, greeted her at the front door, signed her book, looked at her displays (which were impressive if I do say so) and ended at the food table. The food table is what I hoped would be more of a novelty, though I can't expect to compete with the best food table I ever saw at a graduation party a couple of years ago: Lebanese specialties hand-made by the Lebanese grandma and aunties who arranged it on a gorgeous table like a Bacchanalian feast.
Never mind, I was not to be deterred or intimidated by what other people did or expected. We would do it our way, the way it worked for us. We chose a mid-morning to early afternoon time frame, so as to beat the rush of parties held later in the day, and so we could serve a brunch style menu (no expectation of pulled pork at this party). I began baking and freezing several weeks ahead of the date. By the time the big weekend rolled around, I had loaves of banana bread, poppy seed bread, batches of mini-quiches, and pans of maple bars, pecan pie bars, and lemon bars in the freezer. On the day before, I whipped up a double batch of cappuccino mini-muffins and a pan of brownies, which could not be squeezed into the overloaded freezer. My mom helped slice summer sausage and three kinds of cheese, and peeled 3 dozen boiled eggs for deviled eggs. We both cut up fruit (cantaloupe, strawberries) and put a piece of each, plus a fat blueberry, on cute plastic picks. The morning of the party, I mixed the deviled egg mixture and filled the dozens of eggs. I wrapped little smoked sausages in refrigerated crescent roll dough to bake as piggies in a blanket. My daughter had mixed and frozen the base for a fruit punch, which we placed in a decorative self-serve spigoted urn, poured lemon-lime soda over it, and floated pineapples and cherries in it. I brewed several pots of coffee for the Air Pots, made a pitcher of iced tea and floated lemons in iced water in a pretty pitcher.
The night before the party, I stayed up after the home-stay guests had gone to bed and laid out all the serving ware with sticky notes to tell what was to be placed on each. When my sister-in-law arrived to help, it was easy to direct her to the pans of bars or bread and ask her to arrange them on plates. We all scurried to get the rest of the food arranged on the platters, which all fit on the gold-clothed kitchen table, a simple potted yellow mum serving as the centerpiece. The drinks fit handily onto the side bar in the kitchen. The only paper goods we needed were beverage size napkins and small plates, plus paper hot-cold cups. No big buckets of ice full of slippery pop cans, no messy dips that people could stick food into, no bowls of munchies or nuts or candy that allowed hands to reach into, no gloppy pieces of cake that required forks and separate plates, no punch bowls with drippy servers: everything was finger-food, self-serve and tidy. Guests could also have a little bite or make a meal of it, depending on the status of their appetite---it was a well-rounded meal if you ate a little bit of everything.
By the end of the party, there were crumbs on the floor, trash cans full of paper plates and cups, and partially to completely empty platters. There remained no piggies in blankets, few deviled eggs, and just small amounts of bread and bars. There was a bit of sausage and cheese left, and about 1/4 a batch of quiches, plus some leftover fruit skewers. We ran out of fizzy soda to pour over the punch and had to improvise with club soda and fruit juice. There had been no complaints and many compliments about the food.
What made my hostess heart happy, though, was to see that people hung around to visit with my daughter, to admire her displays, then to go on and enjoy the food while visiting with other guests. No one seemed in a hurry to leave, except other graduates who were on the party circuit and had serious schedules to follow in order to meet all their social obligations. That's when the highly grabbable and portable cappuccino mini-muffin was a hot commodity---as in "Oooh, cappuccino muffins! Thanks, see you later!"
Monday, April 26, 2010
Decadent Birthday
The cake was an orgy for the eyes. Completely covered by white and dark chocolate drizzles, it screamed "I am a chocolate fantasy come true!" It was a fitting confection for my 50th birthday celebration, made even better by the fact that my sister had made it, at my house, with me in the kitchen with her.
We had worked on plans for celebrating my birthday, plans which were exceedingly difficult to finalize owing to many factors including her traveling across country on a tight time schedule, and me planning to be out of the country on the actual day. But we managed to carve out about 36 hours of sister fun in the middle of the fluctuating currents of our lives spread across the continent.
I knew she was planning to make the cake, and I didn't try to talk her out of it. I did successfully dissuade her, however, from hauling eggs, butter, sugar, flour, and cake pans from Colorado to Iowa. She finally conceded that she would just bring the "special" ingredients. I found out later, those "special" ingredients included about 4 pounds of varying types of chocolate: chocolate to melt into the batter, chocolate chips to fold into the cake, and the previously mentioned chocolates for the icing.
It was a wonder to behold and to taste. Dark and rich and heavy and moist and, did I say, chocolatey? But more than that, it was a gift of love from her to me. It wasn't just the cake itself but also the time we spent together in my kitchen, with me finding the utensils and bowls and basic ingredients, and her magically transforming those basics into the wondrous creation of "Decadent Chocolate Cake" that made the cake a fitting tribute to my special day and our special time.
We had worked on plans for celebrating my birthday, plans which were exceedingly difficult to finalize owing to many factors including her traveling across country on a tight time schedule, and me planning to be out of the country on the actual day. But we managed to carve out about 36 hours of sister fun in the middle of the fluctuating currents of our lives spread across the continent.
I knew she was planning to make the cake, and I didn't try to talk her out of it. I did successfully dissuade her, however, from hauling eggs, butter, sugar, flour, and cake pans from Colorado to Iowa. She finally conceded that she would just bring the "special" ingredients. I found out later, those "special" ingredients included about 4 pounds of varying types of chocolate: chocolate to melt into the batter, chocolate chips to fold into the cake, and the previously mentioned chocolates for the icing.
It was a wonder to behold and to taste. Dark and rich and heavy and moist and, did I say, chocolatey? But more than that, it was a gift of love from her to me. It wasn't just the cake itself but also the time we spent together in my kitchen, with me finding the utensils and bowls and basic ingredients, and her magically transforming those basics into the wondrous creation of "Decadent Chocolate Cake" that made the cake a fitting tribute to my special day and our special time.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Kids in the Kitchen
I grew up helping in the kitchen. It wasn't really a choice--we all pitched in to cook and clean up. My mom was patient to allow us to make messes, and enthusiastic when we wanted to do everything ourselves. She often decried a sister-in-law who never let her kids help in the kitchen because she couldn't stand the messes; she consequently ended up with cooking-impaired children. My mom, on the other hand, created four Cooking Machines. My sister has a "feed the world" complex and is deadly efficient in her goal to cook large meals for large crowds. My two brothers are creative and scientific in their approach to food-creation, researching things such as smoking meat, spicing sausage, and cooking with local ingredients. I straddle halfway between my sister and two brothers---I can be very efficient and produce large quantities of food, but also like the experimentation and use of local foods.
Now I am proud to announce that I have also created several Cooking Machines of my own. Before my son went off to college, we knew he would be living in an apartment. I was determined that he would have mastered several meals, and would be able to employ basic cooking skills. He learned how to scramble eggs, cook spaghetti and sausage-with-peppers, as well as the basic method for stir frying. He has been cooking for himself now for over 5 years, and is creative and adventuresome in the kitchen. He is not hesitant to try new things and has collaborated with friends to host dinner parties and serve his creations.
My older daughter had been independent in the kitchen for several years before she left for college---she could bake cookies and make a pie and put together a meal from a recipe. After almost 2 years in the dorm, her main goal was to have access to a kitchen so she could cook for herself. Now she is abroad for a semester, without access to a cafeteria, but sharing a kitchen with other international students. She made her first dinner last night in the resident hall kitchen--an invention of sauteed broccoli, peas, zucchini and young cheese from the Dutch market. She said it ended up being an Alfredo primavera, and was wonderful.
My youngest daughter is fast becoming a cooking whiz. She decided awhile ago to learn how to decorate cakes and has successfully created several beautiful cakes for special occasions. She recently roomed with two friends in London in a flat with a postage-stamp sized kitchen, and they fearlessly baked pancakes (after a few flops they figured it out), cooked their own soup and shopped for themselves. Yesterday, we saw a cooking show while we were working out, and she almost single-handedly made the scrumptious barbeque chili from the show for us for dinner. She even cleaned up the mess afterwards.
Soon I will be a superfluous accessory in my own kitchen. This is a good thing. There are still things out there I can show my kids how to make---complicated meals with multiple courses are a challenge for young cooks. Timing all the courses to be done at the same time takes practice and experience. But at least all of them have foundational and beyond skills for carrying on the family food fascination. I can't say I will ever leave the kitchen entirely to my kids---it is too much fun to spend time cooking together, even if all I really do is wipe up the spills and rinse containers for recycling. When they are all gone from home, I will have plenty of opportunities to make my own messes and clean them up and eat my creations.
Eventually, I will be guests at their tables and be told to sit down and be served. That might be hard to do. Surely there is a little job I could do so I don't miss out on the fun.
Now I am proud to announce that I have also created several Cooking Machines of my own. Before my son went off to college, we knew he would be living in an apartment. I was determined that he would have mastered several meals, and would be able to employ basic cooking skills. He learned how to scramble eggs, cook spaghetti and sausage-with-peppers, as well as the basic method for stir frying. He has been cooking for himself now for over 5 years, and is creative and adventuresome in the kitchen. He is not hesitant to try new things and has collaborated with friends to host dinner parties and serve his creations.
My older daughter had been independent in the kitchen for several years before she left for college---she could bake cookies and make a pie and put together a meal from a recipe. After almost 2 years in the dorm, her main goal was to have access to a kitchen so she could cook for herself. Now she is abroad for a semester, without access to a cafeteria, but sharing a kitchen with other international students. She made her first dinner last night in the resident hall kitchen--an invention of sauteed broccoli, peas, zucchini and young cheese from the Dutch market. She said it ended up being an Alfredo primavera, and was wonderful.
My youngest daughter is fast becoming a cooking whiz. She decided awhile ago to learn how to decorate cakes and has successfully created several beautiful cakes for special occasions. She recently roomed with two friends in London in a flat with a postage-stamp sized kitchen, and they fearlessly baked pancakes (after a few flops they figured it out), cooked their own soup and shopped for themselves. Yesterday, we saw a cooking show while we were working out, and she almost single-handedly made the scrumptious barbeque chili from the show for us for dinner. She even cleaned up the mess afterwards.
Soon I will be a superfluous accessory in my own kitchen. This is a good thing. There are still things out there I can show my kids how to make---complicated meals with multiple courses are a challenge for young cooks. Timing all the courses to be done at the same time takes practice and experience. But at least all of them have foundational and beyond skills for carrying on the family food fascination. I can't say I will ever leave the kitchen entirely to my kids---it is too much fun to spend time cooking together, even if all I really do is wipe up the spills and rinse containers for recycling. When they are all gone from home, I will have plenty of opportunities to make my own messes and clean them up and eat my creations.
Eventually, I will be guests at their tables and be told to sit down and be served. That might be hard to do. Surely there is a little job I could do so I don't miss out on the fun.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Snow Day Soup
Snowed in again, for the fourth or fifth time this short winter. My thoughts turn to what delicious hot concoction I can manage to muster from my somewhat beleaguered pantry and freezer. There's still some leftover Thanksgiving turkey, which was sublime in its original savory juiciness. I boiled the carcass to make stock, which I froze in two cup portions, ready for just this culinary emergency. There are some containers of grilled corn-straight-off-the-cob I froze in July, evocative of a warmer, sunnier time. Turkey vegetable soup may be just the thing, if the veggie drawer will yield some usable produce. Ah, yes, the gigantic carrots I got from the last Iowa Food Co-op distribution; perhaps some fingerling potatoes. Would a lone acorn squash work in turkey soup? Why not?!
I quit following some types of recipes awhile ago, and have since found a certain freedom in the kitchen. As long as you understand the basics of certain processes---roasting, sauteeing, stir-frying---you can mix and match ingredients to your heart's content. Some people have a gourmand's sense of flavor blending, which I have not yet acquired. But I do know that some spices fit better with some types of food and methods than others. Having a moderately well-stocked pantry helps facilitate impromptu recipe development---oils, vinegars, wine, spices and herbs, onions, garlic---all are necessary at some point for the type of cooking I enjoy. I frequently consult a cookbook for proportions of liquid to solids, and timing, but often the ingredient combination becomes my own.
Baking is another story---I'm not brave enough to veer from a recipe for bread, cookies or muffins. There is still something mysterious to me about the miraculous transformation of gloppy batter into fluffy fragrant morsels. So I will consult the back of the cornmeal box for the recipe for cornbread to accompany the soup.
My family patiently goes along with my passion for soups and stews in the winter. I sometimes feel I must apologize for the frequency of their appearance on the table. But why? The ingredients are often organic, fresh frozen by me, served appealingly with fresh bread or muffins and fruit. It's the perfect winter meal. A little variation from time to time, based on available ingredients, makes it a new taste each time. An extra-large batch for our small family insures at least another delicious meal on a hectic day when I don't have the luxury of enforced time at home.
Since I'll be in the kitchen anyway, perhaps I'll mix up a batch of our favorite peanut butter-M&M cookies, faithfully following the recipe I have used for 25 some years. It works every time.
I quit following some types of recipes awhile ago, and have since found a certain freedom in the kitchen. As long as you understand the basics of certain processes---roasting, sauteeing, stir-frying---you can mix and match ingredients to your heart's content. Some people have a gourmand's sense of flavor blending, which I have not yet acquired. But I do know that some spices fit better with some types of food and methods than others. Having a moderately well-stocked pantry helps facilitate impromptu recipe development---oils, vinegars, wine, spices and herbs, onions, garlic---all are necessary at some point for the type of cooking I enjoy. I frequently consult a cookbook for proportions of liquid to solids, and timing, but often the ingredient combination becomes my own.
Baking is another story---I'm not brave enough to veer from a recipe for bread, cookies or muffins. There is still something mysterious to me about the miraculous transformation of gloppy batter into fluffy fragrant morsels. So I will consult the back of the cornmeal box for the recipe for cornbread to accompany the soup.
My family patiently goes along with my passion for soups and stews in the winter. I sometimes feel I must apologize for the frequency of their appearance on the table. But why? The ingredients are often organic, fresh frozen by me, served appealingly with fresh bread or muffins and fruit. It's the perfect winter meal. A little variation from time to time, based on available ingredients, makes it a new taste each time. An extra-large batch for our small family insures at least another delicious meal on a hectic day when I don't have the luxury of enforced time at home.
Since I'll be in the kitchen anyway, perhaps I'll mix up a batch of our favorite peanut butter-M&M cookies, faithfully following the recipe I have used for 25 some years. It works every time.
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