Cooking: Eureka!

Are your evening meals for the month ready and waiting in your freezer? I'm not talking chicken nuggets or fish sticks! Join me in tracing my Joy of Cooking history and how I learned to modernize my efforts in the kitchen. Cooking: Eureka!

A truth I learned early on: fixing supper does not count as cooking.
Something warm on a plate, served at 6 PM does not equal appetizing, appealing, nutritious, or delicious.
Opening a can, warming up the contents, dumping it onto a plate - these strategies do not produce rave reviews.
Reading a vintage cook book puts preparing meals in perspective!

I did not come to the skill of cooking naturally.
I was not welcome in the kitchen because I made messes and was famous for disasters - using a hotel recipe for rolls, perking instant coffee, and dumping all pound cake ingredients in the bowl without mixing between each added ingredient. Also, I was not keen on baking a potato in the ground, so my Girl Scout cooking badge came from salads (pineapple ring, 1/2 banana, cherry on top placed on a lettuce leaf looks like a candle!) and desserts.

As a young married woman, I was expert at making...reservations.
I was usually in too much of a hurry to give time to a recipe. So, I opened a can, warmed up the contents, and dumped it onto a plate. That may be an exaggeration, but you get my point.
With children, I expanded my recipe collection. I enjoyed making specialty dishes like crepes, brownies, and crock pot roast beef. I made Rice-Krispie Treats and sprinkled flour on my face to impress the family.

Just as I planned out my wardrobe a week in advance, hanging the clothes together on the rack, I wrote out a weekly supper menu. Taster's Choice Instant Coffee by I.V. started my day. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.
As the kids got older and became involved in after school activities, I became an expert at picking up Taco Bell on the way home. I clipped coupons for restaurant specials.
Breakfast consisted of Pop-Tarts, Leggo My Eggo, Do-nuts, Sausage Biscuit from the microwave.

Lunch came from a brown bag or a school lunch line. Supper - when I did cook, the kids said, "Mom, can we go out to Piccadilly tonight?"

So, what changed? I have time to experiment ...like with a local chocolate roll recipe.
I have time to cook, prepare meals, eat healthy. I work, but on my own schedule.
Also, I cook for a very appreciative diner. "MMMMMnmmm! That is so good. Thank you."  He lives to eat another day.

Here's the good part:  I attended a Freezer Meal Prep Workshop sponsored by the Women's group at church. The hostess sent a grocery list based on the Meal Plan I chose. My category was "everyday meals." I had also paid a fee so the hostess provided her brand (Wildtree) of spices, oils, and recipe enhancements. This afternoon, I prepped - prepared Freezer Bags: cut up chicken, and filled 10 gallon size freezer bags with beef, turkey, pork, shrimp, sausage, salmon, and chopped vegetables, according to the directions. At the workshop, we followed a printed recipe, used her spices and oils, added some canned seasonings like Rotel tomatoes and diced green chilies and filled up the 10 freezer bags with ready-to-thaw and cook bagged main dish meals. We double bagged the finished product and included the recipe for finishing the meal.

Since I cook for 2 most of the time, I have enough meals in the freezer that I may not have to Stew over Meals for months. All the dietary information that everyone focuses on now (non-GMO, organic, healthy, calorie and carb count, etc) is noted on the recipe.

I spent dollars at the grocery, dollars for the spices, and one afternoon of prep, plus 2 hours (socializing and Subway supper included) of combining everything for the meals.

That's how today's cook operates - grocery shopping - an hour; prep time- an hour; combining time- about 90 minutes. With that done on one day of the cook's choice, the rest of the weeks or month in the kitchen is a breeze. It's healthy and delicious, and no one has flour on her face!

I should have discovered this Joy of Cooking method years ago!

Red Ribbon, Red Ribbon!

     When cheerleading became more than "Beat Magnolia's Team, Yamma-Yamma," when athleticism in the form on a cartwheel was required for try-outs, I retired my black and gold beanie and pom-poms. While I can talk a good game, I have reached the ultimate conclusion: I am not athletic. Not at all.  Not in the slightest.
      I can not ski, Not snow -not water. I can not run a marathon; I can barely roller skate.
      I can, however, walk. Not and chew gum at the same time, though.
      My first, ever-in-my-whole-life achievement ribbon came at the conclusion of the Helping Hands 5K in Rector over the Labor Day weekend. I won a red ribbon, second place in my age group, plus a personal best in time.
      I was so excited - still am.
      The corker, though, is that I slowed down my pace because my walking partner (hubby) was struggling and we had vowed to finish together.
      My goal for the 5K: I was not going to finish last, not going to let a woman with a baby carriage finish ahead of me. And not be beaten by a dog running along the side of the road.
      I had lengthened my stride and was moving right along. My super competitiveness had me actually contemplating walking off ahead of hubby, but I thought better of it. I mean how would it look for me to leave a husband in the dust while he was pushing through pain?
     We finished together, arms raised, hands clasped. A photo-op for sure!
       
When we picked up our ribbons the next week, (we did not think either of us received a ribbon at all), I got my beautiful red ribbon - suitable for a shadow box frame and portrait lighting. Thing is - he got a blue ribbon.
       Something about that is just not right!

Hollywood Bodies with Black Lagoon Brains

             Recently I read a fabulous tidbit through FB, something about being a “sixty-and counting teen-ager.” Words to the effect: “At last, I have a driver’s license, a car, and no curfew. I can do pretty much whatever I want to do. I’m In Charge of Myself.”

             That reminds me of the time my older son experienced a heaping serving of “teen-age angst.” He was at the mercy of his father who ran late most of the time and drove the vehicle we allowed son to operate. While I wanted to strangle hubby myself, I was giving solidarity my best shot. Son yelled, “I just want to be in charge of my own life!”

            “So do I,” was my thought.

              This morning’s ArkDemGaz carries an article about the teen-age brain. The brain that yearns to make repeatedly bad choices and the body that wants to dress like a cover-model gets up every morning to face another day where up is down and vice-versa. Yes, there is a brain under that mop of disheveled glory. The ArkDemGaz expose’ skims the surface of the issue.

              Years ago, Time magazine carried an entire section entitled The Brain. We, in education, studied that article and conducted primary research, living hour-by-hour with these so-called “young adults.” What we found was nothing akin to “adult” in the teen-age brain.

            These goof-balls sport around in bodies that betray them. The bodies are far more adult-like than the brain. When teachers and parents glance at these teens, they see an adult body in fine form, but what lurks inside is dangerous. These hunks and hunkettes are impulsive, taking risks that defy logic. They spout off at the mouth, drive too fast, stay up too late, and make bad decisions on a regular basis. In fact, what we learned, and what I emblazoned onto a sticky-note is this: “Adolescence is a stage of Childhood.”

                There it is – in a nutshell. Teens are still children. Some delightful youth-monsters do have a genetic pre-disposition for early-onset-adulthood, but they will fool you from time to time. They won’t be grown, really, until they are close to 25 years old.

               Blame it on GMO or Rio, Monsanto, beauty pageants, video games, or selfie sticks, our teenagers are not as mentally mature as we were at their age. Their bodies are straight out of Hollywood, but their brains are somewhere in the Black Lagoon. The young person’s stature is on fast-forward while the brain is still in slow-mo. That makes for a risky combination.

             The article in this morning’s paper is worth reading, but it only skims the surface. Conduct your own research and be grateful that you are a teenager with good sense.