At work I would talk to the women
who were more than eager and willing to share culinary secrets with a kitchen
novice such as me.
Hot dogs were becoming boring
but, just as with ice, I had a good recipe.
And, you stick with what works.
As a bachelor, my cupboards were
somewhat bare except for a few spices in vein of salt, pepper, hot sauce, and
garlic powder. Something exotic such as
baking soda would errantly wander in but, that was rare. Tooth picks and napkins were the rule.
They brought in recipes and
usually had to add a verbal tip that somehow got left out of the written
instructions.
“Oh, don’t forget to let it cook
for and extra ten minutes for every pound,” they would insert in a squeaky
Southern voice. And then add, “350
degrees if under six pounds, 375 if over,” was another important fact that
should not have been missing.
To avoid any such problems in the
“real kitchen world,” I figured I would simply buy a real recipe book.
Much like panhandlers, cookbooks
are everywhere. Usually they are listed
by food groups such as meats, desserts, grilling, and even special diets in the
order of meals for vegetarians, and diabetics.
These books are written for the
masses and I assumed – wrongly – that following these written kitchen roadmaps
to cuisine Eden
Zucchini-stuffed chicken seemed
like a good beginning since I liked both zucchini and chicken. This particular recipe called for two
three-pound roasters; I immediately saw the need to half these instructions
which called for some things like rice, chicken broth, zucchini, carrots,
onions, and the basics of salt and pepper.
But, then came the ringer. I call these stupid ingredients “ringers”
because they either don’t exist or people feel they won’t use them and wind-up
with an awful meal that can be blamed on the absence of those ringers.
My zucchini/chicken meal called
to something called “chervil.” As old as
I am, I still do not know what chervil is and, have never bought any.
Being a tad short on chervil, the
next recipe candidate was mustard-glazed country ribs, since I love pork
ribs. Once again, the four pounds were
reduced to two and I shopped for the balance of the ingredients. Sugar, vinegar, mustard, onion, garlic, salt,
celery seed, and finally turmeric, comprised the list of fixin’s.
Once again, turmeric was the
ringer and must be in the chervil family of must-haves. I looked at chicken soup recipes, but that
required saffron which – unbeknownst to me – was selling for the premium price
of $139 an ounce!
It wasn’t long before I returned
to work and began talking with the ladies about my stellar cooking skills that
consisted of being able to prepare a hot dog nine different ways. Call me the “Hot Dog King.”
