A bit of borrowed wisdom and some kitchen fails

 

Sharon's happy hour

An online friend, one of thoseI’ve never met in person but consider a good friend, had a birthday recently, andfor her birthday resolve she vowed to follow her mother’s advice to “look upand out” rather than look “down and in.” If you look up and out, you focus onthe world outside yourself and what you can do to make it better. If you lookdown and in, you are focusing on yourself. Such focus leads to self-absorptionas opposed to a lively interest in the world around you. I can think of lots ofreasons to avoid self-absorption—the people I know that spend their dayslooking down and in tend to be boring, unhappy with their lot in life, obsessedoften by minor illnesses. On the other hand, have you recently met someone whoseemed genuinely glad to meet you, interested to know who you are and to sharethoughts with you? That person is looking up and out. I thought it was such aperfect way of encapsulating attitudes toward life that I wanted to share.

But I must admit I’ve beenlooking down and in a bit lately. One of the ways I define myself is as apretty good cook. I may not write recipes and I may be challenged by suchthings as crispy tofu in lemon-tahini sauce (really?) but I can tackle mostbasic dishes, even some fancy ones—okay I do really want to try Beef  Wellington. I can even often fiddle with aproblematic recipe and make it work out. And I enjoy doing all that. So kitchenfails upset me more than I should allow them to.

Friday night I was diningalone and decided to treat myself to a piece of salmon. I’d seen a recipe for roastsalmon filet with a horseradish glaze—I like horseradish as well as the nextEnglishman (perhaps an inheritance from my dad) so I tried it. Probably therecipe was a mistake in judgment on my part in the first place. The recipe wasfor four servings, and I was adjusting it to one. Plus the lovely piece ofsalmon I had was the tail end of what had apparently been a whole half—rather thin,so I adjusted the amount of glaze and the roasting time. Even so, I ended upwith a piece of slightly underdone fish with a thick sauce. I dislike overdone,dry fish and I love sashimi, but this piece was just thick enough I wanted itdone more. And the sauce didn’t make things better. Fail #1.

The next night I was expectingthree people for supper—Jean, who often has supper with me, and Greg andJaimie, who usually come for happy hour. I went all out—made an overnight saladthe night before, spent a bit of time that day making broccoli/cheese soup accordingto a Southern Living recipe. Jaimie, who is an excellent cook, brought aspinach/artichoke dip, and I immediately sensed one problem. I should haveprovided the appetizer, so that the total menu had a plan. As it was, we had alot of vegetables. As Greg suggested, a lot of roughage that might haveconsequences. And everybody ate so much of the dip, they weren’t hungry fordinner. Especially Jean,, who didn’t try the soup at all. Then it turned outGreg can’t abide broccoli. I said the soup had a lot of cheese, and he said he’dtry it. But he didn’t. Jaimie and I were the only ones who ate it, and she tooka baggie home for lunch, but I think she did that to make me feel better.Anybody want broccoli/cheese soup? I have it in the fridge, and I’m kind ofsoured on it now. It used to be my Jamie’s favorite, and I’d long been thinkingI’d like some but hadn’t cooked it because Christian, like Greg, abhors it, can’teven stand to be in the house when it’s cooked. Jacob loves broccoli, but he’snot been around much for me to try it on him.

So tonight I sort of redeemedmyself. Tuesday night is the night Mary comes for happy hour, and tonight weincluded longtime friend Sharon in honor of her birthday tomorrow. I stuffedmushrooms with my mom’s cheese mixture, made a spread with a cream cheese/currybase topped with cranberry chutney and garnished with green onions, and trottedout the rest of the ranch dip I’d served last night. I think Sharon felt wellfeted, and I felt redeemed a bit. The mushrooms were really good, but oneproblem with ordering your groceries is that you don’t get to choose themushrooms—I have never stuffed such tiny “shrooms.”

Anyway I feel better aboutthings now, maybe for having gotten this off my chest. Tomorrow, I think I’llpitch the soup (my mom would be so horrified at the waste) and make the familyspaghetti for supper. And maybe tonight I’ll dream of Beef Wellington.