Sunday, October 23, 2016

"Do You Cook?" someone asked

This is an example of "not much" when asked about my cooking








                Another look in the pantry and you decide the can of chili-with-beans is just the ticket. So you pull out the medium-sized Teflon-coated skillet and a grease screen to cover the three frozen patties. You turn the heat to 5-6.
                After you’re sure the meat is fully cooked, you take two wooden paddles an inch-and-a-half wide, and tear the meat into chunks as small as possible. You decide that the bite-sized texture will be as tasty as that of ground meat.
                You drain the meat on paper towels--not a lot since salmon has no fat to speak of—then return meat to the skillet. You add the cup of water and the taco mix.
                Then, to the ongoing grocery list, you add “taco shells.”
                You stir the concoction and let it simmer for five minutes. Add the chili and simmer until it heats.
Done. Aroma is strongly Mexican. Or Tex-Mex. You’re not up on the difference and don’t care. Or that taco shells aren’t available. You ponder: AHA! Scoops! Frito Pie! You haven’t had Frito pie since you lived in Arkadelphia more than a decade ago.
You line a wide bowl with chips, add some meat, some salad mix, the last of the sour cream and a few grape tomatoes, sprinkle chili powder, Greek seasoning on top and take it to the table.
Not as scrumptious as anticipated, but you eat the WHOLE thing!
You wonder if this experience would answer whoever asked the question, “Do you cook?” Your reply was, “No, not much.” This experience, you think, is in the “not much” category.
Quite a bit of meat mixture remained, so you pour the contents from the skillet into a clear casserole dish to cool.
The following night, you decide to turn the taco mixture into soup. You open a can of tomatoes and stir them into the dish. You add some hamburger seasoning and onion flakes. Remembering the several large soup mugs in the cupboard over the stove, you pull one down. You spoon enough of the new “food” into it, cover it with a saucer and zap it until it steams. But it isn’t soupy enough, you decide. What to thin it with? AHA! Bloody Mary mix! You think it adds just the right spark. Fritos serve as your “crackers.”
The next night, you add a can of corn and a can of black-eyed peas. After that, who knows what you’ll do to it.







3 comments:

Grace Grits and Gardening said...

Pantry raid! That's the best sort of cooking!

pat couch laster said...

Thanks for reading/ commenting. WCDH is nearly at capacity this week: until yesterday, there were 6 of us women writers. Such discussions around the dinner table afterwards! And none of them were about writing. xoxo

Elephant's Child said...

We call that a Perpetual Dinner. It starts as one thing and evolves into others (often very different) as the nights go by. And they are frequently WONDERFUL.