Wednesday, November 25, 2015



                                                I AM NO JULIA CHILD

 

  As turkey day approaches and I think about all of the wonderful food that goes with it, I have to admit something to you all. I cannot cook for shit- trust me. Ask my poor family. Now and then I have a bright moment but my failures far outweigh my successes.
  Let’s blame my mother- that is where everything starts, is it not?? She was the master- she could cook anything.  She set the bar too damn high. I remember one year my dad giving her crap about putting ice cream in the oven to make a baked Alaska- she showed him –it was terrific! We did not have a lot of money growing up but the food was always plentiful and fantastic. Except for her New England dinner- it had turnips in it. I still don’t like those bastards.
  I also was never home as a teen. My schedule was- band practice, volleyball practice,  archery practice, dating the band director practice, choir practice, play practice, parties in the boonies practice, etc. I WAS NEVER HOME. Then my mom had to go and get cancer when I was a junior in high school so all cooking training would have ended there anyway. Yeah, let’s keep blaming my poor mother.
  Fast forward a few years and to my move to Colorado. It was the week before the dude ranch opened to guests- thank God- and I was helping the cook with dinner for the staff. She was making spaghetti and I asked her if I should throw the meat into the sauce. She told me yes. What she failed to mention is that I was supposed to cook the meat first. Who knew? It sucked, the guys ate it anyway and I was banished from the kitchen the whole rest of the season. Well played, I think!
  After leaving the dude ranch, I wanted to make some of my grandmother’s bread pudding. This is a cold pudding that is not cooked- weird, I know as it has eggs in it. Well, I got done with the pudding and it was very runny- not at all like hers. So, I called her. She went over the recipe with me- Did you let the eggs get to room temperature? Yes. Did you add the bread- yes.  Did you whip the whipping cream? No. Then, in her sweetest, yet most disgusted voice she says- WHY DO YOU THINK THEY CALL IT WHIPPING CREAM? How in the hell should I know? I never attempted to make it again. I still have the recipe in her handwriting and will never get rid of it, but I will never attempt to do it again.
  A few years after that fiasco I attempted to bake my first turkey. Why would I think there would be body parts inside of the fucking thing that I had to take out? Who does this??? People are sick bastards. They kill them and then stick their parts back inside- is this some kind of ritual? I don’t think if affected the taste much- but who knows. And let’s not talk about the time I baked the ham with the plastic still on it- it kept the ham nice and moist- trust me.
 
 
 
  Then, trying to be the sweet newlywed wife I attempted to make Bob my mother’s red velvet cake. I got  two 8” round pans all ready to go- I cut out the wax paper just as I had seen my mother do, greased and floured the pans, put the paper down in the pans then poured the batter into them. As they cooked, there was a problem arising-haha. All of a sudden there was batter pouring over the top of the pans and into the bottom of the oven. Then it hit me- this was a 3 layer cake- DUMBASS!  After the 2 layers cooked, I attempted to make my mothers’ homemade icing recipe. I did not remember there being huge ass lumps in it. Again, I never attempted to make this again. EVER. But it is still my favorite cake ever in the whole world.
 
 

  The one thing I could make that tasted good to me was my mothers’ potato stuffing. I always have loved it, but after making it for 10 years and realizing I was the only one who would eat it I stopped making it. Then my friend brings over her stuffing one year and my family scarfs it down. What could her magical concoction be made out of, I wondered?  Fucking  Stove Top and cooked sausage. Really people? It took me a good hour to make the home made crap and she walks in with this? Needless to say I have never made my mother’s stuffing again. And since she always cooked enough for the 7th Fleet   I have not figured out how to make just a little. Oh well.
 
 

  So, my peeps, as you are eating your goodies on turkey day, be grateful you are not at my house and have to politely struggle to eat my food.

 

Happy Thanksgiving to all who all who celebrate!

1 comment: