I started totting things up and realized that I've been cooking for myself for more than 40 years, for my wife for more than 30 years, and for my family for more than 20. Whether it's following a recipe, adapting one to my own tastes (or to what's actually in the kitchen at the moment), figuring out how a favorite restaurant makes something I love, or simply going off on my own, I've been doing this for years.
The challenge really comes down to why we get suckered into the whole fast food/dining out loop in the first place. And the answer: the illusion of saving time.
Like so many people, we've got a rich (read hectic) evening schedule. Two kids, and in addition to never-quite-overlapping karate lessons, the actress in rehearsal for our community theater's next performance, and her brother the sax player is performing in a jazz-band concert on Thursday of the Week of Eating In.
Usually, when the sax player is performing, he stays after school to help set up the stage and we bring him a #2 combo, ketchup and pickles only, with a pint of carbonated high-fructose corn syrup. It's so appealing: drive past the static-laden loudspeaker, hope that they got it right, pay at the window and arrive at middle school with a greasy paper sack.
But not this week. This week it'll be something "more chock full o' love than anything that comes from a store," in the wise words of Lamar from Chunk the Raccoon. It's still February, even though El Nino has been warming (and more important, drying) the skies over Portland for some time now. Chili? Chicken soup? Or given how much my kids like Asian cuisine, maybe a steaming bowl of Japanese udon noodles with thick slices of kamaboko (fish cake) and roast pork? Maybe a meatball sandwich?
One thing's for sure: if we bring the saxophone player a meatball sandwich, we'll make damn certain he eats it before he gets into his concert outfit...
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