Who Da Cook?

The other night I cooked. 

“Big Deal, Jane,” you’re probably saying to yourself – right? Well, for me, it IS a big deal.

For one thing, it’s hard to muster the energy to cook for one.

And for another, I still haven’t located most of my pots and pans. I have one large wok, a soup pot and a Dutch oven in my cupboard. I do have all of the lids for the rest of my cookware in the cupboard as well.

But the balance of my pots and pans are apparently buried in the abyss that is the garage.  I’m guessing they are in a box on the bottom of some pile.

And I’m not interested in going out there and trying to find them. Someone would find me in late February in a frozen rictus holding up a 10” non-stick pan in triumph, but by then it would be too late.

So I’m waiting for a spring thaw before handling that major chore.

Nevertheless, I made do with the cookware I have available and made a pot of chili.

I have never proclaimed to be a good cook. That was Vince’s domain. He could take whatever odds and ends we had in the pantry and the fridge and make something good out of it.

But me? I have a few set dishes I prepare fairly well and I stick to them. I’m pretty darn good at making party foods. And I can throw together a salad like nobody’s business.

But God forbid that I don’t have a specific ingredient on-hand for one of my stock dishes. I either have to make an emergency Kroger run – or I don’t make the dish.

I do not wing it.

At any rate, I had bought a package of ground beef thinking I would make a pan of lasagna (another one of my staples because my dad liked it and that's who I primarily made it for). 

It's important to note that I would never offer lasagna to any of my Italian friends because  they would scoff at my store-bought noodles and sauce from a jar. Trust me. I know my limitations in the kitchen.

Since my father-in-law is not that picky, I figured I would bring my lasagna and share it with him over the weekend. And what I mean by saying he’s “not that picky” is that he’s pretty much happy if (a) someone makes food or (b) someone brings him food.

The only problem was that the weather report predicted yet another snowfall, and I didn’t want to drive over the river and through the woods. I don’t, after all, have a sleigh. And I wasn’t going to grandmother’s house, anyway – so that was just plain silly.

Besides, I discovered that the box of lasagna noodles I had was more like noodle dust. Evidently, those delicate sheets of wheat and, well, whatever lasagna noodles are made of, didn’t survive the move. (Wonder if I should make a damage claim with the moving company? Nah. I think I’ll just suffer the $1.95 loss.)

Normally, my response to not being able to prepare the dish I’d planned is to let the ground beef sit in the fridge until it looks disgusting and even a starving person would turn up their nose at it. And then I’d finally throw it away all the while feeling guilty at being so wasteful.

But I’m trying to be a more responsible adult here. And since I had all the ingredients to make chili, that’s what I did.

I opened cans of tomato sauce and paste and beans and diced tomatoes. I cooked the beef and added spices.

Now – if Vince were here – he would stop me right about this point and remind us all that ketchup is about as spicy as I get.

Haha.

And, okay, so that’s basically true. But I did use a package of mild chili seasoning. And I added garlic and onion. And I was perfectly happy with how non-spicy my chili was.

Now when I would make chili for Vince, I’d have to make two pots. One small one for me as described above. And a bigger pot for him where I would throw in the spiciest spices I could find in the cupboard. I’d add so much I’d think I was making the food inedible.

But he’d always surprise me and say it still wasn’t spicy enough. (Insert eye rolling emoji here!) So he would add more cayenne, red pepper flakes and, if he had any on hand, some jalapenos or whatever really spicy peppers there are. You know – the kind that if you accidentally touched your eye without washing your hand after handling them, you’d be in for a world of hurt?

Yeah, those.  

Now, to be honest, I was sad that I wasn’t making two pots of chili. I had a moment where I had to sit down and regroup. But then I got up and soldiered on.

After the pot had simmered on the stove for a while, I ladled some into a bowl, added a little cheese and a dollop of sour cream and - I've gotta say - I truly enjoyed that bowl of chili!

Then, afterwards, I remembered why it is NOT fun to cook. The dreaded clean-up.

But, still. I figured I get an A for effort.

I have enough chili to get me through the winter. Some of it has already been stored in the freezer. But I suspect I will not be interested in making chili or eating it again until next January.

Maybe my second culinary effort will be chicken noodle soup?

Perhaps. I have the pot to make it in. And it would probably get me through February.

But first, I’ve gotta finish this chili.

Umm…anyone up for pizza?!