My mom was a wonderful cook. She had no idea what oregano or basil were ... salt, pepper, garlic powder and chili powder were about as far as she ever got. But she could make some fabulous meals.
Unfortunately, she had no patience for teaching. None.
Mine didn't come with the guy or the fancy wheels, but that was pretty much my car.
So all of this is my way of saying that I was a southern woman who could not cook. Worse than not being able to cook, I was a walking disaster in the kitchen. I was mainly known for bleeding in the kitchen. If I walked in and picked up a knife, a good supply of band-aids needed to be in the house.
But a few years ago I moved back to Birmingham and decided that I was going to learn. I have a nice house, with a pretty kitchen and all of the utensils and appliances. (My nephew is the Director of Design for Viking Appliances, so I have some really fancy, schmancy mixers and cookware. Wouldn't you think someone could cook if you saw that in their kitchen?)
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With time and practice I have gotten better, although I will never reach the standards of my friend, Katie. My cooking has grown from disaster, to edible, to not bad, to pretty good. The two biggest drawbacks to my cooking continue to be the same drawbacks that I have in other parts of my life. My failure to read through and follow all of the directions, and my belief that more is always better.
Last night, as the house got chilly, it seemed like a good time for soup. Now I always thought that vegetable soup came from a red can with Campbell's on the front, but Katie taught me how yummy homemade veggie soup could be. So I trekked the two blocks to my local Western Supermarket and hit the frozen foods aisle. (I still don't like knives very much. I've stopped cutting myself, but I still have flashbacks.) Happily I found a big bag of veggies labeled soup vegetables. Convenient, huh? Except you know that more is better thing? Yeah ... I like corn, so I bought an extra little bag of that. Oh, and there didn't look like there was enough okra in it. I'm southern and love my okra. So I bought a bag of that. And although there were lots of butter beans and grean beans and peas, into everyone's life a little edamame should fall, don't you agree? And seriously, there were no potatoes. I mean, there were, but I really like potatoes. So off to the produce section where, for some reason, it seemed like a good idea to buy a five pound bag of golden potatoes. Add a box of chicken broth and some cans of diced tomatoes (just in case one wasn't enough) and a can of tomato sauce (cause -- you got it -- I like tomatoes) and I'm off to cook.
I was already too late to have this for dinner, so I threw it all in the crock pot. Well, I tried to throw it all into the crock pot. Alas, where's the soup? I had to bang the top down to get it to close. There really was chicken broth and a large can of diced tomatoes down there, but basically that is a lot of veggies. And I still had a five pound bag of potatoes!
So after letting it cook all night, it was beginning to resemble soup, but it was still not quite right ... and there was the potato problem.
So this morning I transferred everything into a big
pot on the stove and started to add stuff (yeah, I know). You will be happy to know I did not add the entire bag of potatoes, but I did make a dent in the bag, and I added another big can of diced tomatoes. Then, heaven help me, I started playing in the spice rack. More salt and pepper, that's safe ... A little garlic powder, still with things Mom knew. Basil and oregano, nope, Mom never went down that road. Cumin? I have no idea what made me throw that in there. But isn't it pretty?
I just had my first bowl and I must say ... that ain't bad stuff. Now to find 42 of my closest friends to eat it with me.
This morning my friend Bill, who is living in Italy, sent me a great looking recipe for stuffed pepper soup. It says it just feeds ten. Maybe I can follow those instructions. Who am I kidding?
Jeannie
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