I love that after a day when nothing is sure, and when I say ‘nothing’ I mean nothing, you can come home and absolutely know that if you add egg yolks to chocolate and sugar and milk, it will get thick. – Julie Powell
Life is uncertain.
That means, I can do my dorsiflex exercises every night yet not know when my ankle’s full range of motion will be back. My physiotherapist that I pay $100 per session can’t guarantee it will. But I do them everyday and it does get a little better every time, but I don’t know when and whether I’ll attend the jazz classes I signed up for.
It means I can go to bed at 1.30am hoping to get 6 hours of sleep but stay awake until 5 only to wake up at 8 with burning eyes. Or that I might spend another winter in Texas. Or only meet guys who always want something short-term, or watch my favorite bedsheet get stains on it because my dryer decided to act up in that same drying cycle.
But that’s why we love cooking. Because we know that after a long-ass mentally tiring day or week, after lining up that long list I just cranked out, if you cook bacon on your newly seasoned cast iron skillet, the fat will bubble like so and the bacon will crisp up like so and your skillet will be all the better for it.
Plus you end up with a nice breakfast for yourself. 🙂
I love that after a day when nothing is sure, and when I say ‘nothing’ I mean nothing, you can come home and absolutely know that if you add egg yolks to chocolate and sugar and milk, it will get thick.
Julie Powell (1973-2022)
PS : I bought a new cast-iron skillet and had bacon for breakfast thrice this week to “season” it!
The lady in the apartment across from mine has a view into my living room-kitchen situation. Only she knows (well, now you do too) the way I chomp down boiling Wei-Wei noodles straight from the pan first thing after I’m back from a grocery trip, standing at the sink with abandoned bags on the floor, leaving the the icecream at peril and the frozen fish to thaw.
Living alone has been a humbling affair so far. I finally realized that the unholy hair that grazed dishwashers in previous apartments must’ve been mine and not a roommate’s. There’s been so many other discoveries from living alone, of course I have to enjoy it since I chose it (and since I pay a ton in rent).
I always wanted to live in Mia’s house from Princess Diaries. With cozy, lived-in cushions strewn across rooms and throw blankets laid on mismatching couches that you could throw yourself onto after a long day at school/work. And most importantly, the many ugly, wide-mouthed mugs.
These were obviously picked up off shelves at a neighborhood Ikea or Walmart by the budget-conscious artist battling Targetly tendencies (we know they’re not from Target cos they’re – did I mention this already? – not pretty). The mugs were the nicest characters in that movie. Held in warm palms at windows as evening rain beat against car wipers working relentlessly on the street, while you’re safe at home with nowhere to be.
So I would’ve never imagined that kitchen towels and not mugs would become my best friend. My palms are constantly wet and they have indeed been saved.
With great freedom comes.. interesting discoveries
The best part about having my own kitchen is obviously the freedom. Last week I found that I can fix the sweetness of my pineapple snack by simply drizzling a little honey over it. This was a snack to sustain me while I waited for my dosa to cook. I should.. elaborate.
Not for the faint of heart – the dosa wait
In the time that dosa crisps (on its first side), I can put together a sandwich from scratch with neatly zigzagged mustard AND ketchup on it AND eat it. So now I’ve lost my sentiment attached to dosas. I like idlis more anyway – practical, fluffy, easy on the stomach. The 20s shifted my priorities and ruined me, and the near-absolute freedom means dosa batter often lives in my fridge for over 3 weeks.
There’s also been more concerning findings. I can and will consume a whole pork curry prepared with 1.25 lbs of meat within 24 hours simply because it tastes good. (It always tastes good too, which might be a problem and is most definitely a brag)*. Boiled milk can last for a week in the fridge, circumstances that led to this finding remain dubious. Costco hotdogs will taste exactly the same at home, nobody misses the crowd.
Of course all personal preferences had to be reaffirmed in the new apartment – do you like eggplant in your sambar, ginger in your dal and tomatoes in your meat? Will you be depressed if you don’t eat rice for 3 days straight? Do you truly like aromatics including the divisive bay leaf, or was that before gaining kitchen real estate?
Then there’s the random lessons I brought with me picked up over time watching homecooks and reading recipes at the back of magazines. Stay away from vinegar when you poach an egg, poaching only needs a vortex – I’ve held on to this theory despite never having done a practical. Add salt to water while it boils to avoid spots on the bottom of pots. Raise the heat when you add mushrooms to anything and do not cook with a wine you wouldn’t drink.
The nice thing is life is long enough that I can hope to slowly put them to use one by one. (:
Leaving you with a little bit of Nigella I borrowed.
Spaghetti with mushrooms and other things. Also, quarantine and cooking.
This past week at home I’ve cooked more meals than I have this entire semester. Right before spring break and the coronavirus going crazy in the US, I did depend rather a bit much on frozen meals for long (how do you not get tired of your own cooking?). Mashed potatoes and steak in sauce and corn, most of the corn I’d throw out, and some of the steak too. But they’re a better recourse for when I get back from class on Tuesday night than a pack of ramen.
That is not to say that I haven’t been cooking this sem. I almost always have shredded spinach in the bottom drawer of my fridge, and at least one cooked dish. It sits there for a week, while I survive on bread and wheat tortillas and chappathi and ramen and frozen meals and Subway until I finally throw it out. Then I cook another dish to replace it and continue with my bad eating habits.
Coronavirus had me frantically chomping down red rice because somehow it makes me feel healthy and ready to fight illness. In fact if I do get sick, my line of defence is just going to be kanji, but more like red rice in boiling water. I hope it doesn’t get to that.
Recipe
https://photos.app.goo.gl/QFQKYX9vN7MSvtFr7 (I tried to upload the video but WP has issues with me posting stuff. It’s 3 seconds and you’d spend more than that getting there but anyway.)
Cooked this earlier this week. No, it didn’t taste as good as it looks. Next time, I’m frying the beef in a different pan, getting rid of the fat and only adding the meat to the dish. Too fatty for my liking. Also, next time I’ll try to make this a soup, sans fat.
Ingredients : Carrots, mushrooms, spinach, ground beef, spring onion. I seasoned the beef separately with salt & pepper, spring onion to get rid of the distinct smell of red meat. Not enough. If anyone does something to effectively mask the smell, please do let me know. Coming from somebody who once contracted gastritis simply from the aroma of beef cooking in our kitchen. I just can’t.
Also, Pasta.
Seasoning : crushed black pepper, red chilli flakes, salt Garnish (and brightens it up flavor-wise) : more spring onion but cut diagonally for aesthetics
Cook all the ingredients in a wide pan, boil pasta separately. Add cooked pasta to the pan when done. I restrained myself from using soy sauce, I don’t know if it might’ve made the dish better, I always add too much or too less such that it never does any good. Also cooked spinach for far too long, they were heavily shrivelled, bitter and the last of the vitamins left my kitchen by the time I plated. Do not repeat my mistake, add them at the very end. I mean ender than the end.
Maybe I shouldn’t do recipes, I’m not very good at these.
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