When I was first married, I only knew how to make two things from scratch: brownies, and tuna macaroni casserole. Hot dogs, pizza from a mix, that sort of thing, were also in my repertoire. I came from a family where people getting together around food and drink was part and parcel of the good life, and I was looking forward to that in my life.
While we were waiting for our first apartment to come vacant, we lived in a little auto court in the woods outside of
We invited Martha and Sam for dinner the next Friday. Paul went off to work that day with instructions to bring home some cold beer and soft drinks. (We had no refrigerator.) I made a list of ingredients. Meat, potatoes, carrots, onions, celery. Peas on the side would be nice, I thought. And a salad. But what would I do for dessert? Well, I’d figure it out in the store, I thought.
Off I went to the store, and in the baking goods section I found a yellow cake mix, with its own pan in the box. Easy! On the side of the box were the instructions for Pineapple Upside Down Cake. Wow! Fancy! I bought the required brown sugar and a can of crushed pineapple, picked up a bowl to toss and serve the salad in, found the rest of the groceries, and went back to the cabin.First the cake. I mixed the ingredients in my salad bowl, put the pineapple and brown sugar into the cake pan, poured the mixture on top of it, placed it carefully in the frying pan, put the lid on the frying pan, turned the temperature to 350°, and wrote down the time it was supposed to be done. That was easy... Now to start the pot roast. I peeled and chopped the potatoes, onion and carrots, sliced the celery, and took the excess fat off the meat. This was the first place I felt challenged, as I had no cutting board. As I prepared each item, I put it back in the bag/wrapping it came in, because the frying pan wasn’t ready. I also had no garbage pail to toss the peelings into. I didn’t want the garbage in the waste basket while we were eating, so the paper shopping bags would have to do. Hmmm...there’s more to this than meets the eye, I thought. I began to appreciate my Mom’s kitchen, and all the things in it I took for granted. An hour after the time I’d written down, the cake was done. Yikes! Would I get the pot roast done in time? OK, the cookbook says to sear the meat on high heat, in butter or oil. Oh, good, I have butter for the rolls. I wash the frying pan out (because it smells of pineapple) and turn the dial up to high. The meat keeps sticking, the butter keeps turning brown, but I persevere till the meat is dark, dark brown on all sides. I add in the other ingredients, add some water, put the top on, and turn it to 350°, again. Whew! I looked around the room. What a mess! I wash the salad bowl out, and the utensils, take out the garbage, make the bed up, and wonder how I am going to cook the canned peas, since I will have to serve the pot roast from the pan itself. Aha! I’ll put the peas in the saucepan and cook them right in the middle of all the pot roast, and heat it up that way. I set the room up for serving. The frying pan, plates and silver on the bureau. The cake on the bureau. Gee, we don’t have any glasses. Hope they like to drink from a bottle... Quick, toss the salad. Martha and Sam arrive, with flowers. We go out to meet them and chatter and laugh at the elegance of our country home. I say, “Are you hungry? I made pot roast”, and they say, “Yes! Let’s eat!” We walk into the room, and their mouths fall open. “Where will we eat?” “Well, I thought Paul and I would sit on the bed and you could have the chairs. It’s a little easier to balance plates when you’re sitting on a chair.” I serve each plate, handing them out, saying, “Don’t wait to eat - I’m a little slow at this serving stuff.” The pot roast is fork tender, and falls apart at the slightest touch. The juices have thickened and everything is covered with a rich glaze. While the peas are only slightly more than lukewarm, it all tastes delicious. They are amazed that I’ve done it all with an electric frying pan and one saucepan. Looking back, so am I. I had the luck to bring two things to the game: the belief that a part of friendship is sharing food and drink, and a sense of adventure about cooking. I hope this book supports you in your journey to good food and good friends.
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