Cooking up a storm

It looks a bit sparse on that big plate, 
and the bok choy looks a bit pitiful,
but the chicken was really good.
Perhaps I need to improve my food stylist skills.

It’s the weekend, and as usual I’ve spent much of it cooking. Along the way I’ve learned a couple of things. Besides, I’ve enjoyed it.

Friday night, I fixed cottage pie—the English version of shepherd’s pie. If you make it with lamb, it’s shepherd’s pie; with beef, cottage pie. We had cottage, though as I made it I regretted that I hadn’t thought to get lamb. It’s about time for some more lamb in our diet, perhaps Julia Child’s recipe for spring lamb stew. But until I get to that, cottage pie makes a good, one-dish meal. It’s one of Christian’s favorites, and I always cook with at last one thought of him in mind. Jordan sweetly mashed the potatoes for me, though I cooked and peeled them. Somehow having her do that made the meal less of a chore.

Tonight I was more ambitious and followed recipes for sauteed baby bok choy and bourbon chicken—it turns out Christian had several bottles of bourbon stashed in my closet. I refrained from using the good stuff, though it was only a quarter cup. That recipe had a little bit of everything in it—ketchup, apple cider (I used white wine). Honey, soy, bourbon, chicken broth—no wonder it was flavorful. There was part though that was an ordeal: cubing the chicken thighs, even though they were boneless and skinless. I put them out to defrost, hoping to catch them in a semi-frozen state when they would be easier to cut up. First time I tried, they were still frozen too hard; then I let them go too long, and they were defrosted. And the lesson of the day: my knives really needed sharpening. I’ve known that for some time, hated to add one more thing to the list I ask the kids to do for me. You ask why I don’t do it myself—I have an electric knife sharpener but  simply cannot bear the sound. So tonight, after dinner, Christian left with the sharpener and several of my knives.

Other than that, the bourbon chicken was fairly easy to do if you remember mise en place—prepping all ingredients and equipment before you begin. The list of ingredients in the sauce for the chicken was fairly daunting—unless you took it item by item and had it ready before you cooked the chicken. Similarly the bok choy recipe called for two separate mixtures. So I did all that and carefully considered what pans I would use. As it turned out I used a pan for the bok choy, transferred that to a slightly smaller pan, washed the first one, and did the chicken in it. But the real saving grace was having all those little dishes of oil and garlic and complex sauce ready before I began.

None of us were too enthusiastic about bok choy even before I served it. Although it was billed as baby bok choy, I suspect it was larger than that. Christian doesn’t like cooked greens, though the stems were crisp and good, and he remarked he liked the taste. Jordan and I were lukewarm. So the recipe went into the round file, and the remains into the compost.

The chicken was another matter—it was not only hard to cut up but hard to cook. You tossed it with cornstarch, but that turned it into one gluey mess making it hard to follow directions that said cook in a single layer. I persevered but none of it browned like the recipe promised, and I ended up deglazing the pan with a bit of uncalled for white wine to get up all those good, browned bits. Perhaps my pan is not as non-stick as I like to think. But I removed the chicken, heated the sauce and cooked it until thickened, added back the chicken, It was to be served over rice, but neither Jordan nor I care for the rice, so Christian brought his own. We garnished it with green onions and declared it a semi-Asian success.

So what I learned was the importance of mise en place. But the other thing was a certain pride in myself. It’s hard to admit, but I live in a semi-assisted living arrangement. There are things I can no longer do for myself and have to ask for help with. But when I do one of those little things, I feel so triumphant. Tonight, it was figuring out how to get lids off two resistant things—the chicken bouillon where I used my mom’s hot water trick, and the bourbon where I used a rubber jar “thing” to twist the top off the bourbon. Somewhere in my not-so-colorful life, I have torn both my rotator cuffs and, of course, never had the surgery because I know it is brutal. So both my reach and my grasp are compromised, But tonight I figured hacks to get me by things that normally would have required help and that made me inordinately proud. I will add that the mechanical jar opener I recently ordered was worthless.

Tomorrow the Burtons will go to have dinner with Christian’s father. Sunday nights are always a bit hard for me, because for so many years that was family night, and I fed anywhere from fifteen to twenty. I always think Sunday dinner should be something special, so now when I’m alone I splurge. Tomorrow it will be baked scallops in lemon butter and probably a few spears of asparagus with cheese sauce. And, oh yes, a glass of wine!

One of the wonderful things about my retirement/reclusive/golden years life is that I eat very well. I hope you do too.