This one is about passing on your enthusiasm and passion for all of that stuff.
Lotsa times when we're fully engaged in the kitchen, working our mojo on all that delectable food-to-be... we get tunnel vision. Or at least I do. And it's not just cooking... when I'm heads down, fully into what I'm doing, I'm not really a pleasant person to be around. Communication is relegated to short grunts and vacant looks. I gots my mojo working... I'm in the zone... I'm firing on all cylinders... I got mah groove thang on.... etc. Which isn't a constructive environment in which to pass on some of these hard learned lessons, or even the simple ones.
Cut to tonight.
It was a 'fend for yourself' night around our house, which means leftovers, cereal, or frozen dinners. For all intents, the cook was on strike.
Until the cook got hungry, that is.
I'd gone to the store for the weekly provisioning earlier this afternoon, and decided to tackle something I'd always loved to eat, and was too afraid to try to cook.
Fried mushrooms.
Don't laugh.... it's one of those things we all share. For some people, it's frying an egg... for others it's baking bread...
It's that fear that you're sure you'll positively screw up if you try it, no matter how simple it is. I've had a few of those in my life, and so far, I've conquered them all: learning to ride a motorcycle and pulling a 5th wheel RV, to name a couple.
So, I got my batter dry ingredients together in the bowl, got out my favorite whisk, took a deep breath, made a plea to the culinary gods to watch over and protect this poor fool, and started in. Just then, I heard a small voice ask "What are you doing?"
Enter the 4 year old into my culinary odyssey. And it's not just the question... it's how she asks it... each word gets a progressively higher pitched note which is just cute as heck.
So I tell her daddy is making mushrooms. Which of course I could have told her daddy was making hooberdygoobers for all the difference it woulda made... she's not really up on the more esoteric foodstuffs yet.
But, not daunted by her lack of comprehension of what dad's doing or even talking about... she showed that rare courage possessed only by small children and drunken fools.
She jumped right in.
She placed her little step stool in front of the counter, took the whisk firmly in hand and proceeded to stir the dry goods all up.
Wow....
It actually took me a second to grasp that she was cooking.... albeit on a very minor scale... but she was doing it! Not that this was her first time helping dad piddle around in the kitchen, but this was her first time taking the initiative to help and doing exactly what needed doing.
She even battered the shrooms up once I'd mixed in the wet stuff.
Of course she flipped out when it came time for the shrooms to hit the hot oil... but we're gonna work on that one next. She wasn't through playing yet.
While they were draining and cooling off a bit, I put some ranch dip in a ramekin for my dippin pleasure. Whilst I was plating my fungal feast, I was completely unaware that my tiny helper was already helping herself to the dip, sans shrooms.
Note to self: TWO bowls of dip....
So how were they?
I'm pleased to announce that yet another fear has been conquered, much to the satisfaction of mah belly. The shrooms were awesome. Almost as good as some of the best ones I've ever had. Not the best... but damn good. Especially for a first effort.
So what's the point of this inane narrative?
I dunno... I guess it's to remind those cooks who aren't as confident in their ability as others that it all starts somewhere. Do a little research... ask a few questions... and take the plunge. Julia Childs burned more than a few dishes before she got it right... so why should we be any different?
And also... take the time to step out of that zone (assuming you're a one-track person like me) and help instill your passion for whatever you're doing in the next generation. They may like it, they may not. But if you don't show them, they'll never know.
It's like what they say about life... it's not always the destination... sometimes it's the journey itself.
Or, more importantly... sometimes it's just your traveling companion......
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