It seems I’ve been falling behind in my blogging duties. I’m afraid I got lost on the path of life.
News, news, news, busybusybusy, and on top of all that there’s dinner to be cooked. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner for that matter, since my parents have gone to Japan for the week. My brother came home for spring break and my parents have delegated to me the task of being his host so I guess that settles it. I am to do the dishes, wipe the counters, clean the gunk out of the sink, take out the trash, and feed my brother for the next week, and I’m stoked.
All the adults (oh wait, aren’t I…you know what I mean, the Adults) seem to have well-intentioned anxiety over us being home alone though. My neighbor came over the night my parents left and gave me a Ziploc bag of ten or so chicken wraps. My grandfather has called my brother and me no less than six times in the past two days to verify that we have food in the fridge and to go to McDonald’s should we run out. And in the meantime, I’ve gone grocery shopping three times since Monday and cooked something new nearly every day.
Monday: vegetable soup with cornmeal dumplings . A tomato (GASP-wintertomato), sugar snap peas, baby lima beans, string beans, celery, purple carrots, bell pepper, onion.
Tuesday: adzuki bean soup with taro and coconut
Wednesday: phyllo wrapped “samosas.” Crunch-crunch.
Thursday: lamb shank and beans. Featuring Rancho Gordo Christmas Lima beans, more magical than the ones Jack traded his cow for.
Friday: leftovers and started making the beef broth for pho. It is simmering as we speak.
This isn’t survival training, as they might think; it’s Christmas come early. I get free reign in the kitchen. I get a lanky college kid to feed. I get a Mom to wash the tablecloth I stained when she comes back in a few days. Life is pretty good.
I’m writing this now because I fear it won’t always be like this. While my love of cooking is strong and growing with each stir of a pot, what will happen when I’m cooking to survive? This little experiment, I’m only doing it for the week but what about when I’m putting on makeup in the traffic on the way to work? Will I still find kneading bread to be as therapeutic as I do now or will it be a silly luxury? Because I know that whatever luxurious soup I spend hours making, it’s not what one would call “putting food on the table.” Putting food on the table is when you come home at 8:00 after a long day at work and an hour in traffic to a daughter who distractedly mumbles a hello while browsing sloth memes, then cooking dinner for a hungry family. Will I be able to do that and enjoy it? It might just be the cynical old lady in me poking her head out again, but I wonder.
I know you guys didn’t sign up for this anxiety about growing up stuff, but not to worry, back to the food now. This is my favorite waffle recipe. It’s risen with yeast instead of baking powder or egg whites and the resulting hour-long fermentation gives it a wonderfully complex aroma. Big bro and I had it for breakfast today with a quick strawberry compote, sliced strawberries (I know they’re not in season but they were $0.99 a box so sue me), and maple syrup.
King Arthur Belgian-Style Yeast Waffles
-I cut down the butter to 4 tablespoons and it was perfectly buttery.
-I used the same amount of regular (non-instant) yeast and it was fine.
-Awesome frozen then toasted for a quick school day breakfast but you already knew that.