"How Do You Learn To Cook?" (With Brined, Boneless Chops)

To be honest, I don't like being asked questions.  I don't like being cornered.  I don't like thinking I may not have the "right" answer.  All that said, there is still one question I could answer over and over again:  "How do you learn to cook?"

The question was posed by Darling Daughter -- twice -- this week.

Fair enough.  I'm always sad to realize how many people -- kids and adults alike -- never realize the satisfaction of preparing a meal for a loved one, of peering in the fridge and coming up with a dish on the fly, or ultimately, having someone ask, "Can I have the recipe?"

C'mon.  Cooking's not hard.  I'll grant though, that it can be intimidating.  And for some folks, that's a game-ender.  There's an absolute learning curve, and I'm the first to admit that there will always be, um, "mistakes."  So why risk the inevitably salty soups and slightly charred chocolate chip cookies, much less the bizarrely-seasoned steaks?  (Word to the wise:  Filet mignon + nutmeg = Domino's extra large double pepperoni.)  After all, Harris Teeter is chockful of frozen meals requiring little more than a microwave and a fork.

I'll tell you why.  Because cooking lets you nourish the body, the soul and the ego.

I've written about the first meal I ever cooked -- which resulted, but didn't end, in tears and sobs.  Even then, though, I did what nearly every cook has to do.  I based the meal on what we had on hand.

I still believe that's the key.  You look at what you have, and you see the opportunity.

A few weeks back, Cougar Bait, my 200-mile-away-lifeline, who, although wise and strong and fun beyond reason*, is not yet a Top Chef, called me up.  "I bought a package of pork chops," he said,  "Now what?"

"Now what," indeed.  Before I even blinked, I was thinking sage and proscuitto and apples.  Potatoes and gruyere and thyme.  Rosemary and parsley and garlic.  But that's not Cougar Bait's pantry.  In fact, neither is he likely stocked with the precise measuring spoons and razor-sharp Wusthoff knives and Emile Henry baking dishes that line my shelves.  But are those necessary?

Absolutely not.

So together, on the phone, we came up with a quick dish, based on what he had on hand.  Later that evening, he reported the rave reviews to me as if I had been the chef.

But it wasn't me.  And it wasn't hard.  And next week, 14-year-old Darling Daughter will give the same recipe a shot.  Because that is exactly "how you learn to cook."

No question.

*Cougar Bait would also like me to mention that he's "drop dead sexy."  But that seems to be revealing too much.

Brined & Barbecued Chops

Although it sounds "fancy," brining is a simple technique that adds loads of flavor and juiciness.  Other recipes make it sound ridiculously difficult and time-consuming, but it doesn't have to be.  Just get started 2 to 6 hours in advance.

2 cups hot tap water

2 tablespoons (one palmful) salt

2 tablespoons (one palmful) sugar

4 tablespoons (one healthy pour) plain white or cider vinegar

1 big pinch red pepper flakes

1 bay leaf (or not)
4-6 boneless pork chops

bottled barbecue sauce

In a large bowl, combine all ingredients, except pork chops and barbecue sauce.  Stir until sugar and salt are dissolved.  Now, stir in another two cups of cold water. Drop in pork chops and allow to brine, refrigerated, for two to six hours.   Remove from brine and pat dry.  Grill over indirect heat, 5-6 minutes per side.  Baste liberally with barbecue sauce and continue grilling just until done -- an additional 3-4 minutes per side.  Do not overcook.

A Mother's Day Story

Dear Mom ,

It was me.

I can’t -- and my somewhat protective, surely selective memory won’t -- recall the exact circumstances, but do you remember that sophisticated crystal vase from the Daffodil Shop? The one that was so elegantly angled and curved that you received as a Christmas gift when I was about 11?

It was marked with the distinctive “Daffodil Shop” sticker and a lush, richly relaxed yellow satin ribbon. Inside, the vase itself was nestled in an extravaganza of tissue paper – sheets and sheets more than a frugal family like ours would ever tuck in a box of common socks or shirts. After opening, you left it on display under the tree, in its whiter-than-white gift box with the sticker tucked inside, as a reminder of the “special” origins of the gift.

To this day. I don’t exactly remember what happened next, but I suppose we kids were messing around – or, truth to tell, tormenting each other. One thing lead, as it always does, to another. And yikes.  Next thing I knew, I was scavenging through the “junk” drawer, desperately seeking the SuperGlue, so I could reattach the base.

But to you, I never said a word.

Inexplicably, except for a brief interrogation of all three of us kids, you didn’t either, although I suspect you knew all along.

I’m sorry.

A few years later, when I was old enough to drive, I stopped by the Daffodil Shop, naively hoping to find – and afford – a replacement. Silly me.

For these last 16 years, I’ve been a mom, too. And I’ve been fortunate enough to learn “how” to be a mom from a host of role models. From friends who brim over with wisdom. From kindergarten teachers with 10 times my experience and expertise. From neighbors who never knew I was observing (and learning). From unrealistic and optimistic TV shows. From my sister who is both an educator and a mom. And, of course, from my own mom – who, on occasion, but not very many, let me “slide” – and, as a result, learn an unforgettable life lesson.

Thanks, Mom. I love you.

Freedom, Responsibility and Filling 'Er Up

The day before yesterday, I watched as a stranger drove away in my car. Had it been necessary, I’d have had no problem picking him out of a line-up; he was an exceptionally fit young man, tanned, blue eyes, sporting his brown hair in what appeared to be a fresh buzz cut.

It was Carter, of course, my 16-year-old son. And I’d even helped wield the razor on that buzz cut. Still, the sight rocked me back on my sensible mom heels. I blinked – more than once – as if I could “refresh” my vision the same way you “refresh” a website – but nope, there he was, backing cautiously out of the driveway before driving himself to school.

What a week.

In the space of a few days, Carter earned his driver’s license, interviewed for and was offered a summer job (lifeguard), and shaved his distinctive shaggy brown hair into a high and tight buzz. The transformation couldn’t have been more remarkable than if he’d morphed from a black-and-yellow-striped caterpillar into a Monarch butterfly.

In more ways than one, though, I guess he did get his wings – lots of freedom wrapped up in lots and lots of responsibility.

He’s not the only one. I got more freedom wrapped up in even more responsibility, too. On the one hand, having another driver in the household slashes my chauffeuring duties in half. On the other, I can hardly form a complete thought when I know he’s on the road. And I pity the innocent soul who calls when I know Carter is en route. Before I can eek out a frantic “hello,” I’ve already imagined countless “what if” scenarios – none of which bear repeating here.

I’m proud and terrified. Excited and devastated. Thrilled and saddened.

I love my boy. And I need him to know that he still needs me. But then, unexpectedly, I get a text message, “What side of the car is my gas tank on again?”

Sigh. Not exactly what I was looking for, but yep -- he still needs me.

Salmon With Curried Cauliflower Couscous

When Carter was little, his most-requested birthday meal was grilled salmon, sliced cucumbers and steamed broccoli.  This meal is somewhat more sophisticated -- appropriate, perhaps for someone earning his first paycheck.

Grilled Salmon

salmon filets

rice wine vinegar

hoisin sauce

kosher salt

fresh ground pepper

Sprinkle fish liberally with rice wine vinegar (or, in a pinch, squeeze fresh lemon wedges over).  Baste with hoisin sauce, and season well with salt and pepper.  Grill skin side down, over indirect heat, about 10 minutes, or just until done.  Try not to overcook.

Curried Cauliflower Couscous

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

1 1/2 cup uncooked Israeli couscous

1 (14 ounce) can chicken or vegetable broth

2 cups raw cauliflower, broken into small bitesize pieces

1 teaspoon curry powder

1 pinch red pepper flakes

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

In a lidded saucepan, heat oil over medium high heat.  Stir in raw couscous and sauté 3-4 minutes.  Stir in broth, cauliflower, curry, salt and red pepper flakes.  Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low and cook 6-7 minutes.  Stir, remove from heat, and allow to stand an additional five minutes (or until all liquid is absorbed) before serving with salmon.