And plenty satisfying
I’ve been reading a website called How To Cook Like Your Grandmother, by a guy named Drew Kime. It’s about cooking with real stuff, rather than processed foods. The recipes are all built around purchasing fresh, natural ingredients instead of things like canned soup or powdered mixes. It’s not an organic foods thing so much as a “lard, not Crisco” kind of ethic.
I can get behind that, though I still like Crisco a lot for baking.
Drew is also an opponent to secret recipes. I salute him for that. I am more than happy to share recipes, and believe that secret recipes do nobody any good. So when Grandma dies, her Orange Cake recipe dies with her? Screw that. Spread the recipe like a bee spreads pollen, so that the Grandkids can make that Orange Cake themselves and think of Grandma with love whenever they have a slice.
So tonight I was getting caught up with the website, and saw that Drew had posted a recipe for Chicken Divan. The recipe called for some of his Creamy Asparagus Soup, so I looked at that recipe. And decided that it was time to try something new. Drove to the store and picked up onion, asparagus, and a big russet potato. (Forgot the garlic, so I used dried for that.) Came home, and tinkered in the kitchen for a pleasant hour or so.
Here’s the result. I also made Drew’s Egg Salad, which is incredibly simple and delicious, especially on sourdough bread.
Seriously good. Fred made all sorts of yummy noises while eating it. The soup was excellent, and the egg salad was a great complement to it. This was a rich meal, but not overbearingly rich. I’m done eating for the day.
But now we’ll have that bizarre odor when we pee.
I know this is weird, but that bizarre odor keys good memories for me. I *really* like roasted or grilled asparagus, so I guess it got wired that way in my subconscious.
Scent is an amazing trigger. Even the strange ones can hit you just so. For instance, diesel exhaust always takes me back to my home town’s Labor Day celebration, which had a midway set up on Main Street. The smell (and roar) of the generators was such a major part of the experience that the exhaust immediately puts “tilt-a-whirl and game booths” right into my brain.
I totally understand what you mean. More and more I am cooking from scratch. Likewise, purchasing pure spices rather than buying spice blend packets. Love make my own stock (though I do usually have some store bought on hand). Last night I made lasagna and I even made the fresh pasta for it from scratch. Love that pasta roller.
Look forward to checking out that website.
Thanks.
That’s funny. I always think of discing for Jim and Wanda when I smell diesel exhaust. Don’t know why, I just do.
That’s a great Web site.
I love egg salad but only when I make it myself so that I KNOW there are no eggshells in it. Otherwise, bleh.
I just noticed the heart in the soup bowl. You old softy.
diesel odor = locomotive
diesel odor = 8th grade ski trips that left before dawn.
diesel oder = the food truck after practice with the Garfield Cadets.
Diesl oder – damn , another day at work !!!