I am not a confident cook. After 21 years of marriage, I can follow a recipe pretty well as long as it doesn't start speaking a lot of French or throwing around words like "emulsify" or "render" or "spatchcock" or "de-vein".
Or for that matter, "truss", "scald", "macerate", "grate", "beat" "grind", "shred", "whip", "mince", or "inject". On principle, if it sounds like torture, I don't want to do it to my food. If it happens, fine, but I don't need to know about it.
There are culinary operations I am willing to perform. For instance, "open a can of ..." I can do all day.
"Bake" is fine. "Drizzle"--great!
"Cream", "dot", "dust", "fold", "marinate", "simmer", "steep", and "whisk"--also no problem!
But if you put me in a kitchen with raw ingredients and no simple-to-follow instructions, I'll panic and order a pizza.
It's not that I don't love food. I'll eat anything and enjoy it, but I wasn't raised to be a foodie.
Growing up, my family normally viewed cooking as something you did to keep yourself from starving to death. Life didn't revolve around meals, rather meals existed to provide the raw fuel for life.
We came together in a tumble around the table from our various (usually outdoors) activities and ate the simple, wholesome meals my mother prepared without much thought to what was in them. My Dad's tolerance for spices was narrow (actually, just salt) and my mom focused more on the nutritive value of what we ate than on fancy prep and presentation.
She also faced the daunting task of satiating the hyperactive Hudson metabolism that my Dad, my brother, and I inherited from our distant hillbilly relatives.
There was no such thing as a light snack in our house. Whole chickens, loaves of bread, hunks of beef, vats of potatoes, giant bowls of broccoli and peas and spinach all disappeared with alarming speed around the dinner table, and then usually we were back to clean up the scraps an hour or so later.
In fact, I didn't know until after I was married that it was not normal to be wakened from a sound sleep by a middle-of-the-night craving for toast, cereal, and bananas.
*Side note: How sad for all you "normal" people who outgrew your 3a.m. feedings in infancy! I have such fond memories of running into my various family members downstairs in the wee hours and sharing a sleepy conversation over bowls of shredded wheat...sigh*
Anyhoo, fast forward 20 years and I still love eating, but unless it is a special occasion, cooking is something I remember with alarm every night around 5:30.
This is not the case in my circle of friends. I have the good fortune to be surrounded by some culinary wizards, many of whom have blessed me with their favorite recipes so that now, when circumstances call for it, I can pull out a meal that causes people to ask ME how to make it!
I found this to be an enjoyable occurrence for the first decade of my marriage, but then I had kids and my cooking became slightly more--erratic.
While I still cannot make food without a recipe, I find that now I often cannot even cook WITH a recipe, due to the relentless, serial interruptions which seem to happen at inopportune moments during the cooking process at my house.
For instance, there is the emergency phone call from *someone* who calls me to say that they are *somewhere*, but actually need to be *somewhere else*.
Right Now.
Or the blood curdling screams (sometimes accompanied by actual blood) coming from the various small individuals who live here.
Common decency requires that I at least investigate these occurrences, but try explaining that to the onions that are caramelizing or the chicken that is five degrees from being done.
Even if I manage to follow a recipe through to completion, pop it in the oven, and set the timer, I now have a helpful tribe of wandering kitchen elves who have made an art out of hearing the oven beep, turning off the timer, and forgetting to tell me that it rang.
Consequently, I have served a number of seared, blackened, and toasted dishes that weren't originally supposed to smell like smoke.
Homeschooling has also helped "revise" many of my meals, because despite my intentions to have our school day wrapped up with a bow at 4p.m., by dinner time I am often still helping edit papers, deciphering Latin declensions, and collaring small boys whose math problems need to be redone for the third time.
This is the primary reason my children think that the bottom inch of a pot of rice is supposed to be a desiccated pancake of charred starch. (They're OK with it because I've told them it protects the pot from getting banged up by serving spoons.)
It occurred to me that I may not be alone in this.
I can't possibly be the only one who carries the guilt of being unable to complete a recipe as it is written.
There must be others who are routinely mocked by simple, straightforward dinner instructions that look as easy as a dot-to-dot but end up feeling like a lesson in advanced calculus.
So! I came up with a cookbook idea for moms in my position. It builds the distractions, mishaps, and calamities right into the recipes, ensuring the beleaguered cook a feeling of success no matter what the food looks (or tastes) like in the end.
I call it "Cooking With Chaos: Recipes for Disaster" and here is a sneak peek!
Taken from real life. Tested in the Birmingham kitchen, I am please to present:
Potato Leek Soup
Ingredients:
1 cup butter
4 leeks, sliced
3 cloves mashed garlic
salt and pepper to taste
2 quarts chicken broth
2 T. cornstarch
8 cups Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and diced
4 cups half and half
diced chives
shredded cheese
bacon
In a large pot, over medium heat, melt butter. Add leeks, garlic, salt and pepper and cook until daughter lets the dog escape. Turn heat down. Run outside and yell to see if anyone has caught the dog. If so, turn heat back up and keep stirring until leeks are tender--about 15 minutes. If not, turn stove off, get on boots and slog off through the neighbor's field with a raw hot dog and a leash until dog is located and captured. Then, turn heat back up and stir until leeks are tender--about 15 minutes.
Stir cornstarch into broth. Unless you discover you are out of cornstarch. Then try flour. Unless it has managed to get those stupid brown bugs in it that have infested your pantry in the last month. If this happens, order pizza.
If not, pour broth into pot containing leeks and garlic. Realize halfway through that because you doubled the recipe, the broth will not fit into the pot you have chosen. Stop pouring. Slosh 1 cup of broth onto leg and floor. Call dog over to lick floor. Run grab applesauce pot. Pour remaining broth and mixture from original pot into bigger pot. Splash more broth onto floor. No big deal. The dog is still there lapping up the original mess.
Take a phone call which requires writing a message. Forget to turn on burner under new pot. Take message, check on kids outside. Break up fight over Nerf football and comfort daughter who has done a face plant in the sandbox because she was wearing her brother's boots that are two sizes too big for her.
Go back to check on soup. Wonder why it isn't simmering yet. Discover burner is off. Panic (mild) because boys have to eat before practice. Turn burner on medium high but tell yourself it won't burn because you will stir it the whole time.
As you are stirring, notice that the leeks look like tapeworms floating in broth. Calculate the odds of your boys and husband eating anything that looks like tapeworms. Decide to spoon out leeks and put them through food processor. Forget to turn down burner as you are grinding up leeks. Scorch broth (just a little), panic (medium), and remove pot from heat, sloshing 1/2 cup onto hot burner.
Open window to let out smoke from spilled broth. Turn on new burner (medium) and replace pot.
Remember you still have to peel potatoes. Yell upstairs to girls to come help peel potatoes. Yell outside to boys to come in and change for practice. Start peeling potatoes until daughters arrive. Then stir broth and pureed leeks until soup begins to simmer. Notice that it smells good, looks better, and might actually be eaten by even your picky child. Take a moment to congratulate yourself on the decision to grind up leeks.
Start chatting with girls about music. Pull out vegetables for salad, but get distracted by conversation. Stop slicing vegetables. Lean against counter. Make a great point, but notice that you are gesturing with the knife and the salad is still not made. Look at clock. Panic (medium to high). Throw potatoes into pot. Turn up heat again. Tell girls not to stop stirring!!! Notice that the boys are still outside. Run out and yell for them again. Realize that they have taken the dog out for a run in the..."Hey! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THE CREEK WE NEED TO LEAVE FOR PRACTICE IN 20 MINUTES AND DID YOU SERIOUSLY HOOK THE WAGON TO YOUR BIKE WITH DAD'S JUMPER CABLES!!??!"
Run back into house for towels. Notice that girls have made salad (awww!) but have left the kitchen to change the playlist on the i-pod and the potatoes are sticking to the bottom of the pot (aghhh!)
Turn down heat. Try to unstick potatoes. Observe that small black chunks are rising from the bottom and abandon efforts. Accept that this recipe also requires that a "protective starch layer" be adhered to the bottom of the pot and move on.
Dump in half and half. Give a quick stir and sort out pile of wet boys, dogs, clothes, and shoes that has coagulated in the doorway. Look at clock. Panic (high). Push two boys into the shower, two boys toward the van with their dry clothes and sports equipment, and one wet dog into kennel.
Run back to stove. Sprinkle in a handful of chives, a generous smattering of shredded cheese and top with crisp bits of bacon. Note the lovely simmer and scent of your soup: thick and creamy with tender chunks of potatoes bubbling up among little bits of bacon and pepper and chives--and not a tapeworm in sight!
Take three seconds to admire your handiwork and then picture two boys eating bowls of soup and salad in the van on the way to practice and surrender to reality.
Set burner to "warm", grab your keys, and stop at Little Caesar's on the way to the field.
Success! You have managed to make leftovers for tomorrow night and your boys are only 10 minutes late to practice.
See? Anyone can make a recipe like this! I have other great ones to add as well--like the "salted chocolate chip cookies" that you make by forgetting to add salt to the dough and try to salvage by salting the tops during the baking process.
These are also the cookies that you take out before the timer rings, but then your daughter comes in 10 minutes later and points out that they are actually raw so you put them back in, but you are impatient and put them in while the oven is still preheating so the tops end up too brown, so you pull them out again and they might still be undercooked inside but you don't notice because, hey--it's a warm cookie and once it is mashed up in your mouth you don't even notice that the tops were too salty.
And then there's the meatloaf recipe that is really a team effort because it requires one person to turn on the oven and put the loaf in, one person to come through the kitchen and think Mom left the oven on with nothing in it and turn it off, one person to come back through and notice that the oven is off (usually the same person who put the meatloaf in) and turn it back on, again forgetting that the "preheat" function will scorch the top, one person to come through and see smoke coming out the oven vent and turn it off, and one person to order pizza when Mom comes back to start the potatoes and discovers the scorched/raw lump of meat in the oven.
This same technique can be applied to many different recipes with similar results! So easy!
A few notes:
Irritation and frustration are optional ingredients which I have put into most of these recipes at one time or another. Yes, they are readily available, but I can't recommend them since they do not improve the flavor of the dishes at all and in fact throw a negative vibe over the ambiance of the whole place.
I might also mention that my cookbook does require a healthy pizza budget and also a tenacious and dedicated pot-scrubbing crew, but given those things--anyone can successfully make these recipes!
Finally, while these dishes are suitable for close family and polite friends, they would not be welcome at most potlucks and bake sales. For those venues, I recommend Costco's deli and bakery sections--unless you are trying to make other cooks feel better about their own offerings, in which case, cook away!
My recipes are actually perfect for building self-esteem in others so I guess I am just saying, know your audience.
And the phone number for your local pizza joint;)
11.15.2015
If I Speak in the Tongues of Men and Angels...
A friend brought home a baby this week. He is tiny and fragile, attached to tubes and monitors. Four months old and the size of a newborn. He doesn't take much food by mouth and there is a good chance he cannot hear. The coming weeks will be full of doctor's visits and surgeries, and his future is full of question marks, but oh! Is he loved!
His siblings have welcomed him with joy even though I'm sure it means more responsibility and less free time for them. I watched his young sister give a presentation on the wonders of him to her classmates. She absolutely glowed with happiness.
My friend sat by a stroller full of his equipment all day as her children had their classes, and she stroked him and held him and patiently fed him bit by bit, and I could tell she saw only perfection in his tiny form.
And he isn't even hers.
I spoke with another friend at lunch who told me about her parents, who took in over 100 foster children during the course of her childhood and who now work as child advocates within the system--as well as wholeheartedly pouring themselves into the lives of their 26 grandchildren. She said, " I have never met more loving people in my whole life. They literally never think about themselves."
I have been thinking a lot about love lately. It is one of those words that is chucked around so indiscriminately these days that it has lost its impact, but no matter how our society has tried to bastardize it, love is a thing. And like any REAL thing, it exists as an entity outside of what anyone tries to make it.
Love's attributes are described explicitly in Scripture.
"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
"It is not rude, it is not self-seeking,3 it is not easily angered,4 it keeps no record of wrongs.
But what else is it?
Love is a choice.
We know this because we are commanded over and over to offer it--to God, to our spouses, to our neighbors, to our enemies, and to our brothers and sisters--regardless of our emotions.
We know this because we are commanded over and over to offer it--to God, to our spouses, to our neighbors, to our enemies, and to our brothers and sisters--regardless of our emotions.
It is not dependent on feelings, but rather on commitment and obedience.
"Jesus replied: 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment.
And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself.' " (Matthew 22:37-39)
And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself.' " (Matthew 22:37-39)
Love is expressed in action--often sacrificially.
( 1 John 3: 16-18) "This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us.1 And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers.2
"If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him,3 how can the love of God be in him?4
"Dear children,5 let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth."
Love does not wait to be returned.
"If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him,3 how can the love of God be in him?4
Love does not wait to be returned.
1 John 4:10 "This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins."
This is what is so amazing about love. Its concern is only ever outward. Even at its source.
Especially at its source.
The love between the Father, the Son, and the Spirit is flowing so freely and fiercely that it casts an invitation over all things to come and join it and enjoy it forever.
John 17:20-24 (Christ's prayer for his disciples)
"I do not ask on behalf of these alone, but for those also who believe in Me through their word; that they may all be one; even as You, Father, are in Me and I in You, that they also may be in Us, so that the world may believe that You sent Me.
“The glory which You have given Me I have given to them, that they may be one, just as We are one; I in them and You in Me, that they may be perfected in unity, so that the world may know that You sent Me, and loved them, even as You have loved Me.
“Father, I desire that they also, whom You have given Me, be with Me where I am, so that they may see My glory which You have given Me, for You loved Me before the foundation of the world."
What could God gain by asking me to share in the love expressed between the Father, Son, and Spirit?
Do I add to its unity? Its holy perfection? Its strength? Its beauty?
It strikes me that my role in this is simply to be a conduit for something that is so big it cannot be contained by its source.
It is for me to stand under it and be filled, overwhelmed, and completed by its glory, and then in turn to let it spill from me into the lives of others.
I am to drink deeply from Love's abundance, and then turn my unveiled face toward those who do not know where to find it. And lead them in.
Love is the gospel.
1 John 4:7-10 "" Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. "
I struggle with the enormity of the privilege sometimes and I am saddened by my inability to fulfill my role adequately.
Especially at its source.
The love between the Father, the Son, and the Spirit is flowing so freely and fiercely that it casts an invitation over all things to come and join it and enjoy it forever.
John 17:20-24 (Christ's prayer for his disciples)
"I do not ask on behalf of these alone, but for those also who believe in Me through their word; that they may all be one; even as You, Father, are in Me and I in You, that they also may be in Us, so that the world may believe that You sent Me.
“The glory which You have given Me I have given to them, that they may be one, just as We are one; I in them and You in Me, that they may be perfected in unity, so that the world may know that You sent Me, and loved them, even as You have loved Me.
“Father, I desire that they also, whom You have given Me, be with Me where I am, so that they may see My glory which You have given Me, for You loved Me before the foundation of the world."
What could God gain by asking me to share in the love expressed between the Father, Son, and Spirit?
Do I add to its unity? Its holy perfection? Its strength? Its beauty?
It strikes me that my role in this is simply to be a conduit for something that is so big it cannot be contained by its source.
It is for me to stand under it and be filled, overwhelmed, and completed by its glory, and then in turn to let it spill from me into the lives of others.
I am to drink deeply from Love's abundance, and then turn my unveiled face toward those who do not know where to find it. And lead them in.
Love is the gospel.
1 John 4:7-10 "" Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. "
I struggle with the enormity of the privilege sometimes and I am saddened by my inability to fulfill my role adequately.
I am also grieved by my tendency to stand in the love of God and suck it up like a black hole.
This is why I appreciate seeing love lived out by the people around me--my friend and her foster baby, sacrificial parents and grandparents, open-hearted friends. They are all burning reminders not to be stingy with something that isn't even mine to begin with.
The only Person with the right to put conditions on Love is Love Himself, and His only condition is that we allow Him to wash us individually from our sins and dress us in His holiness so that we can safely come into His presence and enjoy His sweetness.
That's it.
He doesn't require us to be pretty first. Or to like Him back first. Or to not be irritating. Or to be convenient, or economical, or easy, or compliant, or to share His interests, or to smell good, or to be strong.
We just have to hold up our skinny, weak arms and accept God's love on His terms (which by the way, are for our good) and He welcomes us into His family and loves us and loves us and loves us.
And that love gentles our hearts, and comforts our spirits, smooths out our rough edges and keeps us from harm.
And then He asks us to love others in that same way.
John 13:34 ""A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another."
That's it. Since I didn't create love, I don't have the power to define it.
And I don't have the prerogative to withhold it.
Period.
How then can I fail so often in this?
Just this week, I have offended God and been forgiven--and then nurtured a bitter root in my heart over someone else's offense toward me.
God has patiently borne with my weaknesses and I have offered my children impatience with theirs.
He has made Himself available to me and I have grumbled over being inconvenienced.
He has gently convicted me of sin and I blew up at one of His little image bearers over the same thing.
He has blessed me in a thousand ways without my thanks and I have kept a ledger over being under-appreciated a handful of times.
He has spoken words of life to my spirit and I have thrown knives into the spirits of those closest to me.
He has crafted life-giving plans for my days and I have scrapped them so I could draw aimless circles in the dirt.
This is not hyperbole! I am cut to the heart when I think of these real failures.
And yet, every morning His mercies are new! He has plunged my failures into the sea of forgetfulness. He has created in me a clean heart and renewed a steadfast spirit within me.
My prayer is that I would be as quick to forgive as I am forgiven. That I give grace as I have been given grace. That I would open my heart and let the love of God flow through me.
That I would be too consumed by His desires to notice my own.
Did you ever notice that Jesus didn't seem to care what others did to him? Or thought of him? Or took from Him?
He wasn't jealous for His time or His reputation or His stuff or His rights.
He was zealous for His Father and for His children, not for Himself. The only passages I can remember where He references His own needs are once briefly in the garden of Gethsemane as He contemplates the horror of His impending separation from His Beloved, and on the cross when that horror became reality.
Matthew 27:46 "About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, 'Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?' (which means 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?')"
I want to be as much like Jesus in this way as possible. I want to be so full of the love of God that I would look at personal offenses and see opportunities to show grace.
I want to see needs as invitations and time as a gift to be given, not a possession to be hoarded.
I want to experience the weaknesses and failings of others and not give way to irritation, but rather give thanks for the mercies that have been shown to me and the chance to give mercy.
This is why I appreciate seeing love lived out by the people around me--my friend and her foster baby, sacrificial parents and grandparents, open-hearted friends. They are all burning reminders not to be stingy with something that isn't even mine to begin with.
The only Person with the right to put conditions on Love is Love Himself, and His only condition is that we allow Him to wash us individually from our sins and dress us in His holiness so that we can safely come into His presence and enjoy His sweetness.
That's it.
He doesn't require us to be pretty first. Or to like Him back first. Or to not be irritating. Or to be convenient, or economical, or easy, or compliant, or to share His interests, or to smell good, or to be strong.
We just have to hold up our skinny, weak arms and accept God's love on His terms (which by the way, are for our good) and He welcomes us into His family and loves us and loves us and loves us.
And that love gentles our hearts, and comforts our spirits, smooths out our rough edges and keeps us from harm.
And then He asks us to love others in that same way.
John 13:34 ""A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another."
That's it. Since I didn't create love, I don't have the power to define it.
And I don't have the prerogative to withhold it.
Period.
How then can I fail so often in this?
Just this week, I have offended God and been forgiven--and then nurtured a bitter root in my heart over someone else's offense toward me.
God has patiently borne with my weaknesses and I have offered my children impatience with theirs.
He has made Himself available to me and I have grumbled over being inconvenienced.
He has gently convicted me of sin and I blew up at one of His little image bearers over the same thing.
He has blessed me in a thousand ways without my thanks and I have kept a ledger over being under-appreciated a handful of times.
He has spoken words of life to my spirit and I have thrown knives into the spirits of those closest to me.
He has crafted life-giving plans for my days and I have scrapped them so I could draw aimless circles in the dirt.
This is not hyperbole! I am cut to the heart when I think of these real failures.
And yet, every morning His mercies are new! He has plunged my failures into the sea of forgetfulness. He has created in me a clean heart and renewed a steadfast spirit within me.
My prayer is that I would be as quick to forgive as I am forgiven. That I give grace as I have been given grace. That I would open my heart and let the love of God flow through me.
That I would be too consumed by His desires to notice my own.
Did you ever notice that Jesus didn't seem to care what others did to him? Or thought of him? Or took from Him?
He wasn't jealous for His time or His reputation or His stuff or His rights.
He was zealous for His Father and for His children, not for Himself. The only passages I can remember where He references His own needs are once briefly in the garden of Gethsemane as He contemplates the horror of His impending separation from His Beloved, and on the cross when that horror became reality.
Matthew 27:46 "About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, 'Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?' (which means 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?')"
I want to be as much like Jesus in this way as possible. I want to be so full of the love of God that I would look at personal offenses and see opportunities to show grace.
I want to see needs as invitations and time as a gift to be given, not a possession to be hoarded.
I want to experience the weaknesses and failings of others and not give way to irritation, but rather give thanks for the mercies that have been shown to me and the chance to give mercy.
And I want to love God so much that a space between us is the only thing that could truly rock my world.
And that's what He wants too.
******************
John 15:9-17 “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love.
"10 If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in his love.
11 "I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. 12 My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.
"13 Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. 14 You are my friends if you do what I command. 15 I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.
"16 You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last—and so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you. 17 This is my command: Love each other."
Colossians 3:12-17
"Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. 13 Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. 14 And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.
"15 Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. 16 Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts.
"17 And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him."
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