MUSINGS BY JOAN #9
Those who know me well, know that cooking is not my strong suit. Actually, that’s the understatement of the year. During my second marriage I managed to burn down two kitchens. For sheer survival, we hired a series of cooks, but I’ll save that story for another blog.
My sister called me today, laughing hysterically. It seems that my daughter, who lives in Charlotte, North Carolina, is responsible for bringing chopped liver and charoseth* to her friend Linda Joy’s Passover Seder. She was calling on her cell phone from the meat department of her local grocery store. Without bothering to identify herself and sounding decidedly worried, my sister heard the following: “Fina, are gizzards the same thing as liver?? I can’t ask my Mother, I’m sure she won’t know the answer.”
Fina, (the name all the kids call my sister Frances), assured her they were very definitely not the same. Actually, even I knew that. But my daughter learned a long time ago that when it comes to recipes and cooking tips, Mom is not the best one to call. Not unless you are looking to poison someone, that is.
I am famous for having nothing edible in my refrigerator. I have been known to have eggs in those cute little egg trays in the fridge door that have long since dried up and died, sort of my version of the Chinese 100 year old egg. When my grandson was still in college he would bunk at my condo when he was visiting in Miami. A bunch of his friends were at the house one time when someone got hungry and raided the fridge. From my bedroom I heard the following conversation:
Friend: “Adam, can I eat this?’
Adam: “Check to see if it’s green before you do. “
Friend: “Adam, this is a convection oven. Ask your grandmother how it works.”
Adam: “You gotta be kidding. I think she stores stuff in there.”.
What can I tell you. The kid knew me well.
So by now you are wondering, how does she survive if she’s such a terrible cook? Enter, 13 ½ years ago, the “significant other”, and welcome to Chez Benardo, the best restaurant in town. Talk about good karma! How’s this for the perfect couple. . .a man whose hobby is gourmet cooking and a woman who brilliantly fills the role of “designated eater”.
It is my firm belief that every great chef needs a “designated eater”. . .someone who truly appreciates his culinary efforts and stays out of the way while he’s whipping up a delicious dinner for two. This is a man who has mastered Osso Bucco and makes a killer chicken soup complete with matzoh balls that are so fluffy they almost fly off the plate.
My job is to set the table, and if I say so myself, I do it with style, alternating place mats and folding the napkins just so. I also pour the wine and make terrific dinner conversation. My friends are all green with envy.
Well, that’s about it, folks. It’s 6:30 and time for dinner, so I better get started. Can’t wait to see what Chef Benardo has on the menu this evening. Bon appétit!
# # #
*Charoseth – (spelling courtesy of Andrea via Linda Joy Weinstein) A mixture of chopped apples, chopped walnuts, cinnamon and red wine used in the Passover Seder ceremony to symbolize the mortar used by Jewish slaves while laying bricks for their Egyptian masters. Happens to taste delicious when slathered on a piece of matzoh.
Photo caption: The Master Chef at work.
Those who know me well, know that cooking is not my strong suit. Actually, that’s the understatement of the year. During my second marriage I managed to burn down two kitchens. For sheer survival, we hired a series of cooks, but I’ll save that story for another blog.
My sister called me today, laughing hysterically. It seems that my daughter, who lives in Charlotte, North Carolina, is responsible for bringing chopped liver and charoseth* to her friend Linda Joy’s Passover Seder. She was calling on her cell phone from the meat department of her local grocery store. Without bothering to identify herself and sounding decidedly worried, my sister heard the following: “Fina, are gizzards the same thing as liver?? I can’t ask my Mother, I’m sure she won’t know the answer.”
Fina, (the name all the kids call my sister Frances), assured her they were very definitely not the same. Actually, even I knew that. But my daughter learned a long time ago that when it comes to recipes and cooking tips, Mom is not the best one to call. Not unless you are looking to poison someone, that is.
I am famous for having nothing edible in my refrigerator. I have been known to have eggs in those cute little egg trays in the fridge door that have long since dried up and died, sort of my version of the Chinese 100 year old egg. When my grandson was still in college he would bunk at my condo when he was visiting in Miami. A bunch of his friends were at the house one time when someone got hungry and raided the fridge. From my bedroom I heard the following conversation:
Friend: “Adam, can I eat this?’
Adam: “Check to see if it’s green before you do. “
Friend: “Adam, this is a convection oven. Ask your grandmother how it works.”
Adam: “You gotta be kidding. I think she stores stuff in there.”.
What can I tell you. The kid knew me well.
So by now you are wondering, how does she survive if she’s such a terrible cook? Enter, 13 ½ years ago, the “significant other”, and welcome to Chez Benardo, the best restaurant in town. Talk about good karma! How’s this for the perfect couple. . .a man whose hobby is gourmet cooking and a woman who brilliantly fills the role of “designated eater”.
It is my firm belief that every great chef needs a “designated eater”. . .someone who truly appreciates his culinary efforts and stays out of the way while he’s whipping up a delicious dinner for two. This is a man who has mastered Osso Bucco and makes a killer chicken soup complete with matzoh balls that are so fluffy they almost fly off the plate.
My job is to set the table, and if I say so myself, I do it with style, alternating place mats and folding the napkins just so. I also pour the wine and make terrific dinner conversation. My friends are all green with envy.
Well, that’s about it, folks. It’s 6:30 and time for dinner, so I better get started. Can’t wait to see what Chef Benardo has on the menu this evening. Bon appétit!
# # #
*Charoseth – (spelling courtesy of Andrea via Linda Joy Weinstein) A mixture of chopped apples, chopped walnuts, cinnamon and red wine used in the Passover Seder ceremony to symbolize the mortar used by Jewish slaves while laying bricks for their Egyptian masters. Happens to taste delicious when slathered on a piece of matzoh.
Photo caption: The Master Chef at work.
In defense of my cooking, there were actually no chicken livers in Charlotte (I went to 4 stores). I AM living in the bible belt. I was trying to figure out if I could use gizzards instead. Either way....wish Fina had been here to cook them. Mine didn't come close to hers!
ReplyDeleteAs said grandson in musing #9, I can vouch to all that the stories involving burnt kitchens are true as well as also tell you there were numerous conversations with my friends that went along the lines described above.
ReplyDeleteHowever, I sadly have never dined at Chef Bernardo's....mostly b/c whenever we are all together we seem to end up at a Japanese restaurant eating sushi. Ah well, one day. Does one need a reservation?
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