We in Central Minnesota are heading into the coldest stretch of weather in years this long weekend. I know, cold is relative, but this is cold. It is in the 'teens below zero, and will be perhaps 20 degrees or more below zero tonight. Mind you, these temps are without the windchill--you can add (subtract?) another 10-15 degrees for that.
After a good start to Friday my day turned decidedly crappy and didn't exactly set me in the right mood for a long weekend. It didn't really matter, becau se you still have to deal with it, right? So I planned menus with the idea/goal of going shopping and not really emerging from my hovel til Tuesday AM when I have to go to work. All in all not a bad plan.
For last night, I splurged and satisfied a craving that I have had. I bought prime rib, an extravagance that I justified (of course) by saying that it would cost more in a fancy place and that even me, who doesn't like leftovers, can cage a few meals out of it. I think that I wanted to learn how to cook it, too. It is surprisingly simple, though I was nervous--what if I carbonized $50 worth of meat? I would have felt badly. But I didn't, and it was actually very good. I learned a few things. The cooking time is figured out from a room temperature roast, not a refrigerator-cold roast. And, rosemary and salt make a good rub. Then, in my recent infatuation with caramelized onions, I made a sauce with onions, bourbon (normally a yuk in my life) and a little sugar. It was exceptional and made the rib prime. I see visions of a prime rib sandwich on sourdough toast in my future...
Speaking of salt, I tried salt-roasted potatoes and they were a total fail The theory is that you bake the potatoes in course salt but I apparently don't know how to do this. After 90 minutes in the oven, they were still like rocks. I guess that is what microwaves are for.
Along the line of comfort food, I made breakfast this morning. Remembering back to my upbringing and youth I made salmon patties, a meal that I don't think I have had for 20 or more years. That and (gently) scrambled eggs and coffee made a good meal. It also kept me inside on this cold day and was, well, comfortable.
All of this cooking and comfort made me think of my mom. My mom was a good cook, and sometimes an exceptional cook. Her biscuits, fried chicken, pies and a few other things are still the best that I have tasted. But I think of the limitations that she faced and it is amazing she got food on the table. My scrambled eggs today provide a good comparison. I have learned how to cook light, fluffy scrambled eggs. You use real cream, a hot pan to start and then less heat. Fresh herbs like dill and real recently shredded (not Velveeta) cheese all work to that end. It takes some time, though, time that my mom probably never had when she was making scrambled eggs for six.
The roast last night was another comparison point. First, I know that it alone cost more than any weekly food budget that she ever had. Frankly, it would have been hard to make that piece of meat not taste good. She also didn't like any meat that wasn't very well done. I honestly did not know you could have a piece of beef that was not gray until I was in college. The first steak I got that was slightly pink I almost sent back until I tasted it and finally understood why you don't cook a roast/steak until it was well done.
I think in some ways I am a better cook than my mom simply because I have more time and fewer demands on my time. I cook when I want to, and for the adventure/fun of it. She cooked every day--my dad made pancakes every now and then, but he didn't help with what had to be sometimes just a chore for her. That she sometimes delivered this to an unappreciative audience probably didn't help that feeling. Also, I rarely cook with or within a budget--my meals would be far different if I had make a budget stretch to fit the week.
I think the message that hit me this weekend and at other times as I cook is this. I am far removed from her cooking--it has been more than 20 years since she passed away, more than 30 years since I lived in her house. The years, however, do not mean that I don't compare what I make to what she made all those years ago. Is the meal better? Worse? Not as good? Why? I both honor and move away from what she was able to do in the kitchen
But that I do remember and still compare is important, And it is a comfort.
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