Last night my mentor (who took offense at being referred to as my "clean up crew" despite it being a self-inflicted title) made Chicken and Broccoli in a Garlic Cream Sauce. Look at that beautiful broccoli! It smelled fantastic while cooking, always does, unless you let it cook too long. You can tell you've cooked broccoli too long as soon as your house starts smelling like your high school cafeteria, the holy land of over-cooked or dried-out "fresh" vegetables. Am I glad that my mom used to pack our lunches for us. I could take all the teasing questions about whether my mom also chopped down the tree, mashed it into a pulp, and made the paper bags for us too; the jealous taunts produced when my friends found out my mom made all of our bread.
I realized that I cook quite differently from my mentor now. I typically put at least eight cloves of garlic in my garlic cream sauce. She used four. I resisted the urge to go grab more. She, after all, was doing the cooking. We typically stay out of each other's way while cooking. If we are in the kitchen at the same time, we are usually making separate things. Did anyone read the New York Times article about alpha cooks? My mom and I are both alpha cooks. I managed to bite my tongue (but not my tone) when she asked me to chop some celery for this dish. I would never put celery in it. But, as my sister-in-law would point out, what "white people" dish is complete without celery and onions? None, I tell you. Many-a "white people" dish contains celery, onion, and ground beef and most often includes some "cream of" something soup. Cook something like that up and you'll be transported to the aromatic world of a white, midwestern church potluck.
This dessert was not such fare. Chayote squash, which I halved, seeded (only one large seed in this squash), and stuffed with a mixture of walnuts, raisins, coconut, brown sugar and cinnamon. I baked it at 400 degrees for about 30 minutes, turned it down to 325 for a while, and then called my dad while on the way to the gym and asked him to turn the oven off, but leave them inside. When we got home a couple hours later, they were soft and still warm. It was agreed that chayote, while probably making a rather healthy dessert, also makes a rather bland dessert. The topping was delicious, but the chayote tasted of nothing next to it. When I use this vegetable again, it will be with something savory. Perhaps I'll take the Field Guide to Produce's advice and make a mixture including chorrizo to stuff them with, making sure to slice the flesh so that the flavor can penetrate the chayote a little better.
Last night my mentor (who took offense at being referred to as my "clean up crew" despite it being a self-inflicted title) made Chicken and Broccoli in a Garlic Cream Sauce. Look at that beautiful broccoli! It smelled fantastic while cooking, always does, unless you let it cook too long. You can tell you've cooked broccoli too long as soon as your house starts smelling like your high school cafeteria, the holy land of over-cooked or dried-out "fresh" vegetables. Am I glad that my mom used to pack our lunches for us. I could take all the teasing questions about whether my mom also chopped down the tree, mashed it into a pulp, and made the paper bags for us too; the jealous taunts produced when my friends found out my mom made all of our bread. 
I realized that I cook quite differently from my mentor now. I typically put at least eight cloves of garlic in my garlic cream sauce. She used four. I resisted the urge to go grab more. She, after all, was doing the cooking. We typically stay out of each other's way while cooking. If we are in the kitchen at the same time, we are usually making separate things. Did anyone read the New York Times article about alpha cooks? My mom and I are both alpha cooks. I managed to bite my tongue (but not my tone) when she asked me to chop some celery for this dish. I would never put celery in it. But, as my sister-in-law would point out, what "white people" dish is complete without celery and onions? None, I tell you. Many-a "white people" dish contains celery, onion, and ground beef and most often includes some "cream of" something soup. Cook something like that up and you'll be transported to the aromatic world of a white, midwestern church potluck. 
This dessert was not such fare. Chayote squash, which I halved, seeded (only one large seed in this squash), and stuffed with a mixture of walnuts, raisins, coconut, brown sugar and cinnamon. I baked it at 400 degrees for about 30 minutes, turned it down to 325 for a while, and then called my dad while on the way to the gym and asked him to turn the oven off, but leave them inside. When we got home a couple hours later, they were soft and still warm. It was agreed that chayote, while probably making a rather healthy dessert, also makes a rather bland dessert. The topping was delicious, but the chayote tasted of nothing next to it. When I use this vegetable again, it will be with something savory. Perhaps I'll take the Field Guide to Produce's advice and make a mixture including chorrizo to stuff them with, making sure to slice the flesh so that the flavor can penetrate the chayote a little better.
1 comment:
What happened to the pictures of the split pea soup?
Last night I made swordfish, brown rice, and brussels sprouts sauteed in butter and garlic. YUM!
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