Food For Thought

It was a Very Dry Thanksgiving. The turkey had no moisture at all -it actually crumbled in my hands, like freeze dried; I tore a cuticle on the stuffing and my apple pie was so dry that my sister thought it was more stuffing. It is a holiday miracle that none of us choked and died.

I shouldn't be surprised, however. I have made the most disgusting food lately.

I don't set out to make it disgusting, of course; I start off pretty well and then, inevitably, I fuck it up. So after our Very Dry Thanksgiving, followed by A Very Dry Leftover Thanksgiving, followed by A Very Dry Poop, I decided to really give this some thought.

And, happily, I have a theory.

My theory is that my cooking is not about cooking. It is about avoiding getting any writing done.

Exhibit A: In the past four days, I have put four trays of disgusting homemade turkey enchiladas in the freezer, three containers of disgusting homemade Pho broth in the freezer and a shitload of homemade  inedible breads and cakes all neatly wrapped in foil and labeled. Chili - homemade. And disgusting - is simmering on the stove as I sit here.

Exhibit B: Um, this half-written blog post. And no new pages for the novel. And this large, purring, squishy cat on my lap that turns out to be my stomach.  All to avoid writing. What's wrong with me?

Well, I know the answer. I have an alarming dearth of ambition. If you took all the ambition I don't have and put it in a big jar, you could...well, I have no idea. Because I don't care. I like watching TV.

The fact is this:

There is nothing - no job, no opportunity, no event - that I would pursue over staying at home in my pajamas. Nothing.

So I pretend I have cooking to do, you know, to justify not getting things done. Honestly, I don't even really like cooking all that much. Especially when the shit I make is not worth the time or calories put into it. I just like the activity of cooking. Because then, you know, then I don't have to go do something  productive.

How proud my parents must be to read this. All the piano lessons, the museums, trip. College.

My ideal day:

Invite people over for dinner. Spend the entire day grocery shopping and cooking. Take a shower.

Get an email that says my guests are canceling.

And then:

Throw out the dinner I made. Order in Thai. Get in my pajamas. I have the warm fuzzies just imagining it. All the credit for inviting people over. None of the hassle of actual human interaction. And Pad Se Ewe.

When my oldest child left for college, I decided that after 19 years, I was through making dinner. And despite the cries of my younger son ("What do you mean, 'empty nest'? Look at me - I STILL LIVE AT HOME!"  and "Where is my bed? Why is there a bidet in my room?"), I threw in the kitchen towel. I decided that if I had to make one more chicken, I was going to oil and salt my own head and stick it into the oven. Dinner from then on was take out. Or leftover take out. Or my avocado and papaya facial masque. I was done.

But after a few months, I realized that without the late afternoon tether of chopping and sauteing, I really had no excuse for not writing. So I brought dinner back. With a vengeance. I cook dinner every night. I cook the fuck outta dinner every night.

You're welcome to join us. Only please cancel at the last minute.

 

 

Comments

[Madgew]

I am with you on this one Ann. I love my bed and jammies but since I now have tremendous back issues from laying in my bed with laptop I need to sit up more and in another room with a desk. I don't like it at all. aI don't cook as it is just me. I go out a lot and bring home leftovers and occasionally I will surprise myself with cooking. I just made pumpkin muffins from Trader Joe's (like home cooking) that I add chocolate chips too. Also, a meal for me can be a tortilla cooked on the stove with cheese, whatever luncheon meat I have around and microwave for the last melting. Even when my kids were home they got a lot of breakfast stuff for dinner, challah bread french toast and grape nuts with milk. My oldest one married a woman who loves to cook and bake. My other son and his wife are not thrilled with cooking at all and since their daughter needs to be gluten free they make a lot of things that work for her. Or they go and buy stuff that works for all of them. I have to go out so it is necessary to get off my bed (laptop on my lap) and go to a play.

[Margaret Murphey]

I can't wait for a dinner invitation! But do I really need ton then cancel? Where's the fun in that? Hysterical, as always, Ann <3
oh wait, that doesn't make a heart like on FB. ;(

[cordelia]

You make me laugh, snort and pee my pants. Simultaneously. Thank you.

[jenchi]

should i send you a care package?

[Claudia Reilly]

Very funny. Why is it food from a restaurant delights in a way that our delicious home cooking does not?

And I loved your line "How proud my parents must be to read this. All the piano lessons, the museums, trip. College."

Today I thought to myself, "Not only do I like staying home, but I basically like staying on the first floor. Why didn't I buy a ranch house?"

[Doris]

Time to meet once again in the Safeway wine aisle so you can wash down all that dry freezer food! Also, didn't you know, a full freezer is the new status symbol?

[Marla Miller]

RE: I decided that if I had to make one more chicken, I was going to oil and salt my own head and stick it into the oven.

OMG, read that line and signed up! more please...:)
Marla, aka, your facebook buddy