Tuesday, September 12, 2006

My Favorite Part of the Weekend

Heaven, minus the Cuisinart

I do love New York, but part of what makes it loveable is the getting away to Vermont on the weekends. Even with all of the tiresome - and seemingly endless - roofing, it is still a balm to my soul and a respite from the exhausting realities of living in a shoebox and working in a fluorescent-lit glass monolith.

Waking up on Saturday morning to the sound of the wind in the trees, and the sight of maples, pines and (my favorite - shhhh) birches standing straight and tall outside of the paned glass doors from our bedroom is magical.

I could lay there for hours, watching the limbs and leaves sway and glisten in the sun. Catching sight of birds flittering to and fro. Watching the quality of light change as it passes through the limbs and leaves. Nestled in my quilt and a multitude of pillows.

That's all great.

But really, my favorite part of the weekend is the cooking.

Almost all of my cookbooks and most of my good cooking instruments (yay for my wedding registry!) have migrated north. They've found a comfortable home in the wide open spaces of our kitchen there. I even keep a pantry full of the dry ingredients and spices that I just don't have the real estate for in the city.

I can easily lose a Saturday afternoon shopping at Dutton's Farmstand, the Williamsville Country Store, our Wardsboro Country Store or - if I am feeling particularly ambitious - the mighty and expansive aisles of the Price Choppers in Brattleboro.

And when I get home, the counter space stretches before me like yards of blank canvas.

I can make a flaming brandy sauce and not worry about ventilation. I can use more than two pots and a pan and not overfill my sink. I can have a Big Mouth Cuisinart and a Kitchen Aid mixer out and still be able to truss a chicken without worrying about raw chicken juice contaminating them.

Eww.

I can talk to myself while I am cooking and not worry that the neighbors in the hallway are overhearing my Nigella Lawson impersonation. I actually bought Thai fish sauce (which, for whatever reason, was something that intimidated the hell out of me) to make her Cambodian Beef Salad.

That english accent really does make the food taste better. Pinky swear.

Anyways, during the week I cook - and I find it relaxing then too - but in the city it's always a rush to get something done with the minimal amount of ingredients, pans and time. I try to minimize my grocery shopping time instead of savoring it.

I even 'multi-purpose' when I am cooking in the city by catching up on my TiVo recordings. Sometimes, I'll chop at the dining room table so that I can watch Iron Chef or Opening Soon or the dreaded Rachel Ray while I cook. Mostly it's for inspiration, though with Rachel Ray it's more my desire to heckle her than cook like her.

'E-V-O-O!' Puhleeez. Egh.

In Vermont there is no TV (can I hear a collective gasp, please?) So there is just me, my cookbooks and a whole lotta time to kill.

Every weekend I try to make at least one new recipe. Which is why I asked for cookbooks for my birthday - I am running out of recipes that I am interested in making!

I try to stay away from things that take five million steps or too many esoteric ingredients, but I have been pleased with the complexity of some of the things I've accomplished. I also avoid most recipes that would call for using my Big Mouth Cuisinart because I am too lazy to wash the thing and, unfortunately, our dishwasher needs replacing.

But I still like being able to have the Cuisinart on the counter to look at.

Maybe it seems hoplessly domesticated of me. But really I think that I find it relaxing because the alchemy of cooking still amazes me. It's so creative, and visual, and textural. It's like design work that embraces all of your senses.

And then there's the fact that I love my food. What was Mom's other saying? 'We never have to worry about Allison being anorexic!'

Too true. Too true.

I never thought that I would love cooking so much, but when the nearest restaurant is a half hour away and - like me - you like your food, you learn too cook. And if you get bored easily, you learn to cook a lot of different things - as I imagine you will at Pam's ranch.

My saving grace - in terms of the over-domestication - is that I don't bake.

That's Eugene's territory.

4 comments:

Heather said...

Whose sister are you anyway? Whose daughter? Do you have beef stroganoff with pickles in your repertoire?

I look forward to a time when I get to sit in your kitchen with a beer and watch you cook. Maybe I'll chop, but that's about the extent of my talents.

There are going to be a lot of soft-boiled eggs with toast consumed at the ranch. That's all I have to say!

LadyGripe said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
LadyGripe said...

I Love the beef stroganoff with sour cream and pickles - are you kidding? It freaks Euge out abit though - I think he thinks that beef with a white sauce is weird.

But then he can't fathom mayonnaise with his broccoli so who cares about his opinion?

Anonymous said...

Mock me if you must, but the hamburger stroganoff with dill pickles is making my mouth water right this minute! Thanks for the reminder, HM. You must have forgotten the all ogange dinners? Now there's something to mock.
Ali, I hope nobody buys you the Feast cookbook or one called Food for Friends...They're no good. No good, you hear. No good, all other shoppers.
I love this blog thing!!!
XOXO,
Mummy