So, as you all know, I’m having to learn to cook.
I started before the move, while I had James around to advise on such matters as “Yes, that meat is done,” and “No, you throw away that bit.”
So far, I have been suprisingly successful. I have made quesadillas that were actually pretty good, something called a “south-of-the-border wrap” that wasn’t terrible, cooked a baked potato without casualties, and marinated a pork loin.
Tonight, I take a stab at pasta with mizithra cheese and sauteed garlic. I’ve never actually sauteed anything before, so wish me luck. Should it prove successful, I will prepare it Sunday night, when James is coming over for dinner, but I figure I better test it out first.
What I Have Learned:
-Cheese makes anything edible.
-Sour cream makes anything better.
-There is a reason that tortillas are a dietary staple for large sections of the world.
-Mild canned green chilies are actually pretty good, but how you use a full 4 oz can of the things before they go bad, I have no idea.
-Marinating a pork loin is like playing with a sea cucumber with garlic stuck to it, except without the exciting possibility that it will fling its internal organs at you.
-Fresh herbs are great, but if all you need is a teaspoon of fresh cilantro, what the heck do you do with the rest of the bunch? Does nobody market the one-meal-sized fresh herb pack? Why can’t I buy just two green onions, instead of a dozen? Is the point of growing herbs yourself not actually to have what you need, but not to have what you don’t need?
-Bell peppers are too big.
-Garlic never hurt anything.*
My cooking adventures are a peculiar combination of the bargain basement and sublime. I think I’m alternating between “cooking” and “refueling.” Refueling can be done with frozen schtuff. Cooking involves fooling around with herbs and olive oil and mincing garlic and all kinda craziness.
I have not yet actually cooked anything in a skillet. I am a little worried, but we’ll get there eventually.