Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Yesterday, after exhausting my will to flip through my own cookbooks for the millionth time, I walked down to the library to see what I inspiration I could find. It was a tried and true Monday, complete with sour mood and grave facial expressions. I had spent the weekend away from my kitchen and my computer and when you do that, you are asking for Monday glum. I walked away with two books and one movie added to my request list (all of which I don't expect to see for some time), and one CD and one cookbook in my bag. I brought home The Martha Stewart Living Cookbook. I miss the days when Martha Stewart's name stood on its own without the word "Living" next to it. Regardless, I checked out Martha S. Living's book for my re-entry day. This volume is clearly her answer to the Joy of Cooking and How to Cook Everything. So far, I stand in support.
For one is has the clearest explanation I have seen yet for "the Sponge", an intimidating step/ingredient in making sour dough breads and ciabatta loaves. Right now I have a bowl of it sponging away in my refrigerator. Two, it gave me a reason to buy all those vegetables in the above picture. The recipe: Chunky Vegetable Potpie. It was an all day affair. I had to roast the veggies and then saute the shallots and garlic and then pull out the food processor to make the biscuit dough to spread on top of the dish. I don't know that I will make it again for a while, but it served as a delicious and needed reminder that avoiding a messy kitchen should not be your main aim in cooking. And, I admit that this is sometimes my forethought. Endless were the bowls and measuring utensils used.
I think that someone should include at the end of his or her cookbook an acknowledgment of those who washed all the dishes. Or maybe someone will someday include an epilogue as to how many dishes they have washed to get to the point where they don't have to wash any more dishes.
It's equivalent to Project Runway. You have to start your career by sewing your own garments, but by the end it is someone else's job.