What's Cookin'?

Um, today, after my rhapsodizing over risotto last post? Yeah, Chik-fil-A. Hey, I bet even Julia Child got tired of whipping together fabulous meals.

For the most part, I like to cook. And occasionally bake. But cooking is nice because it is incredibly forgiving. No precise measurements are needed. You just mix stuff together until it smells good.

My dad taught me my basic philosophy -- think of things you like and think of them together. If they sound good (i.e. appetizing), it'll work. If not, back to the drawing board.

My sister-in-law taught me this rule of law -- with fish, less is more. Fewer the ingredients the better. As she wisely pointed out, most great dishes don't have a ton of ingredients. So true.

My husband taught me to make gravy. No, no, no -- not himself really. He just loves the stuff with everything. I had never made gravy before until I met him. I was used to my mom's which was most often lumpy with flour or cornstarch and not the tastiest (sorry, Mom, but it's true -- gravy is not your forte). So because of the constant demand and my distaste of most prepared gravies on the market, I learned to make my own.

That's just it -- you can learn cooking by trial and error. And now, for example, when I'm stuck for what to do with some freshly purchased sole fillets, I can google a few ideas, combine some of this and some of that and whip up a dinner with breaded sole fillets with a lemon butter caper sauce. (And risotto. But I thought that went without saying.)

So the advice is try it out. Don't be afraid of cooking. You will inevitably have meals that fall a little flat. But you will have many others that are truly delicious. And others that are from Chik-fil-a. And all of that is okay.

Cook on.

Prairie Days

You know, there are days. Days when it is hard to concentrate at work. Days when I wish I could just leave and go home and start making my parmesan risotto, grilled zucchini and opa, perhaps festively arranged on a beautiful patterned platter (not that I actually own one) with real true garnish, as in edible decoration no one eats.

Bu instead, I sit there, sight at the unfairness of it all and trod on.

I don't have a choice. The trodding pays the bills. This doesn't.

One can always hope that changes one day, that my writing will take off and soar into new unfound heights of financial freedom. But today it sits like a cement pigeon on my stoop. Flight potential is, uh, unlikely.

Probably one of the reasons I am inspired to cook is because right now anything sounds better than the daily grind I am doing.

Oh, and I rediscovered the Pioneer Woman.

I got turned on to the Pioneer Woman by some women on a mom board. Someone raved about a recipe, posted the link and the rest is history. Well, sort of. I fell in love with the site and then lazily drifted off doing silly things like having a baby and enduring ensuing sleeplessness. Apparently it was love of convenience only. I'm fickle like that.

But last night, looking for distraction, I happen back upon her site. Dang, it's busy! I read her Black Heels saga and learned about aperture (bless you, PW). And that I should get to bed earlier but that is a different post.

And true to past form, she makes cooking look fun and relaxing. Like I should be popping a frittata in the oven and sitting down on my porch a spell with my iced tea in hand.

Cooking is so deliciously different from my Daily Grind (yes, I decided it needed to be capitalized as I will continue to use that phrase in favor of the more colorful ones I sometimes use to describe my work -- I'm sure HR knows Google) that some days I look forward to it. Especially when there is risotto involved.