Thursday, 11 August 2005 10:06 am
Requested Rant 2: Cookbooks
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deckardcanineBecause of my very limited experience on this subject, I feel a bit like the Coeur d'Alene Reservation traffic reporter in Smoke Signals ("We had some cars come by...[silence]"). But here goes.
At my summer camp from ages 9 to 12, I tended to sign up for Cooking, partly because I was a foodie and partly because I had trouble filling the slots otherwise. I liked it at first, but in later sessions I was spending a lot of time away from the rest of the group, doing nothing remotely related to cooking and never sampling the outcomes. I don't know if I stopped liking the food or just the work; my guess is the latter. It's hard to remember a single thing we made now.
Today, I am only slightly more into cooking. It's become an unofficial part of my rent that I do the bulk of work for at least one meal a week; otherwise, I'd almost never do it. It's like driving: the freedom doesn't outweigh the fact that I need to be more attentive than is natural for me.
Thank heavens for "forgiving" recipes, but it's funny. Whenever my mom says the magic words "It's not an exact science," they have the opposite effect from what she intended. I aim to instill order where it is lacking. If Tyler Durden was "the guerrilla terrorist for the food service industry," then I would be Lord Protector should I get involved. So perhaps part of my stress in cooking is self-inflicted. I'm just terrified of ruining a meal.
Now, cookbooks. All the meals I prepared for myself in the last week had instructions that could fit on three bullet points of a legible PowerPoint slide. If I attempted something like pasta with tuna nicoise by myself, I'd probably lunge at a medicine cabinet. Not for stomach medicine, but in hopes of finding a trank.
But as it is, I'm just barely aware of the existence of cookbooks in my house, as opposed to the index cards that must have been copied from them or magazines. In my view, cookbooks are lower on the hierarchy than travel guides and about on the same level as auto manuals. Almost lower than video game strategy guides, which at least tend to try for some colorful language. Now that's something that would get me to read them: a writing style reminiscent of the Klutz Press. Or Lewis. Or maybe Nabokov. I can dream!
There is one small cookbook in my possession: Idiot Proof Recipes: A Cookbook for a Man Who Probably Only Owns One Saucepan. It has an irreverent air, as shown by the three sarcastic scholastic alternative covers offered inside to stem your humiliation. Unfortunately, that's not quite the approach I wanted, and anyway, it's too sporadic. Also, only so many recipes in the book appeal to me, and they tend to be either already within my knowledge or too extravagant for regular preparation, like a fondue. Could it be that my aversion to cookbooks comes in part for wanting order my way, despite a lack of confidence?
I will not be one of those guys who either microwaves or orders every dinner. I just need to approach this monster responsibility at my own barnaclish pace. Cookbooks are bound to come into play by my independent choice sooner or later. Just more likely later.
At my summer camp from ages 9 to 12, I tended to sign up for Cooking, partly because I was a foodie and partly because I had trouble filling the slots otherwise. I liked it at first, but in later sessions I was spending a lot of time away from the rest of the group, doing nothing remotely related to cooking and never sampling the outcomes. I don't know if I stopped liking the food or just the work; my guess is the latter. It's hard to remember a single thing we made now.
Today, I am only slightly more into cooking. It's become an unofficial part of my rent that I do the bulk of work for at least one meal a week; otherwise, I'd almost never do it. It's like driving: the freedom doesn't outweigh the fact that I need to be more attentive than is natural for me.
Thank heavens for "forgiving" recipes, but it's funny. Whenever my mom says the magic words "It's not an exact science," they have the opposite effect from what she intended. I aim to instill order where it is lacking. If Tyler Durden was "the guerrilla terrorist for the food service industry," then I would be Lord Protector should I get involved. So perhaps part of my stress in cooking is self-inflicted. I'm just terrified of ruining a meal.
Now, cookbooks. All the meals I prepared for myself in the last week had instructions that could fit on three bullet points of a legible PowerPoint slide. If I attempted something like pasta with tuna nicoise by myself, I'd probably lunge at a medicine cabinet. Not for stomach medicine, but in hopes of finding a trank.
But as it is, I'm just barely aware of the existence of cookbooks in my house, as opposed to the index cards that must have been copied from them or magazines. In my view, cookbooks are lower on the hierarchy than travel guides and about on the same level as auto manuals. Almost lower than video game strategy guides, which at least tend to try for some colorful language. Now that's something that would get me to read them: a writing style reminiscent of the Klutz Press. Or Lewis. Or maybe Nabokov. I can dream!
There is one small cookbook in my possession: Idiot Proof Recipes: A Cookbook for a Man Who Probably Only Owns One Saucepan. It has an irreverent air, as shown by the three sarcastic scholastic alternative covers offered inside to stem your humiliation. Unfortunately, that's not quite the approach I wanted, and anyway, it's too sporadic. Also, only so many recipes in the book appeal to me, and they tend to be either already within my knowledge or too extravagant for regular preparation, like a fondue. Could it be that my aversion to cookbooks comes in part for wanting order my way, despite a lack of confidence?
I will not be one of those guys who either microwaves or orders every dinner. I just need to approach this monster responsibility at my own barnaclish pace. Cookbooks are bound to come into play by my independent choice sooner or later. Just more likely later.
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no subject
INCREDIBLE NEWS
Also: I spent the summers of my youth near the Couer D'Alene Indian Reservation, and they are not into "fry bread" so much. We had a place on Lake Couer D'Alene.
Your rant is pretty good, but you're right, you just don't have enough experience with cookbooks to have a rantible perspective on them. You do give a great look at your feelings about cooking, and suggest there will be an inevitable confrontation with cookbooks later.
Re: INCREDIBLE NEWS
I should be taking my 11th-grade English teacher's advice: an A-level essay has one's blood and guts on the page. (Just don't get them into the cooking.)
Re: INCREDIBLE NEWS
Re: INCREDIBLE NEWS
Plus: I am SKUM, I grabbed barnaclish as my aim tag.
Re: INCREDIBLE NEWS
Anyway, "SKUM," it's not like I was about to have my coinage trademarked. If you want people to think of you as barnaclish every time they IM you, that's your biz. :)