I enjoy cooking. Always have, heck, I worked my way through college in a commercial kitchen as a chef. So, when I get a hankering for something, I just cook it. Either learn to cook it, or just dive in.
A few weeks ago, my sister was visiting, and I decided to make a Dutch Baby, and I found this recipe on the Epicurious web page.
The recipe is simple, the ingredients aren’t esoteric, and I had an appropriate cast-iron pan to make it. (more…)
This little fact is something that has hounded me my entire life. From a very early age I just hated eating onions. They were soggy, gross, and made me gag, so I would spend an eternity to pick them out of my meals as a child.
This is odd, as for a good chunk of my adult life, I was a professional chef/cook. Italian, Mexican, Seafood, bistro food, catering, large banquet cooking, I did it all. Yes, I used onions when needed, but to this day I remain not a fan of the onion.
Not sure how this started, but I have strong suspicions. My mother (rest her soul) was a heavy smoker. She cooked for us growing up, and being a smoker her taste buds were impaired. So she compensated with onions (strong yellow onions) and salt.
Every meal was loaded with large chunks of onions. Cooked, raw, or partially cooked, they were in everything. Blech.
Add to that the fact that she was never skilled ad dicing and chopping, all the onions were large, stringy, and gross. Ewwww.
Of course, being a professional chef, I know how to keep a knife sharp (essential for any knife handling), and how to slice and dice from 1/16″ up to quarters. As the recipe calls for.
I do use onions on occasion, as some recipes demand them (a good chile verde, or a lamb vindaloo), but as often as not, I will substitute garlic or some other aromatic herb, and nobody notices.
No doubt, you will not find me making french onion soup for myself to eat. There are some limits.
I have to say goodbye to an old friend. We have been together for a long time. Probably 20 years or so, a good run. Alas, all good things must come to an end.
All the cans we have opened. All the meals we shared. You have been reliable and faithful. Always there when needed. You never demanded much, but always ready for an adventure.
Lately, you have been slipping your gears. No longer able to cleanly open a can. It started with a few “bad” spots, but it has been getting worse. Last night, opening a can of refried beans was more than just a task, it was a travail. The decision to retire you was not made lightly. I had hoped that you could pull it back together, but it was not meant to be.
I ordered a replacement. The sad thing is that the replacement from Swing-Away are now made in China, and had a slew of terrible reviews. Fortunately, someone is building the same design, with the old machines from the original Swing-Away company. It should be here Tuesday.
I will miss my old friend, but I will not forget it.