Let's be honest. We all "learn" a number of things each day. We catch ourselves thinking "I didn't know that," or "now I know!" The sad reality of the matter is, only a fraction of these things do we really "learn." Once upon a time I "learned" all the capitals of all the states in the US. I sit here today, confident in about half of them. Tell me that Helena is the capital of Montana and I'll say "Oh yea! I knew that," but did I? No. I didn't. I "realize" I once knew it, or should have known it, but I didn't really know it.
I find this an interesting distinction to make because, being the first entry in a blog titled "What I Learned Today" I feel it's important that we set some ground rules. "Learning" is something permanent, something that can be recalled for relevant use at a later date. "Realizing" is the recognition of something familiar that you once knew but may not have fully comprehended before.
Today I "learned" that I can cook. I didn't "learn" to cook, but I did learn that I am not completely incapable of creating edible foodstuffs in the kitchen. Perhaps I should have known that before, but anyone who knows me, also knows that "cooking" is not my thing. It's not that I haven't tried, because I have. I can tell you stories of how I screwed up No-Bake cookies or finished making rice pudding only to realize that half the grains of rice were actually mealworms. A good friend of mine can also vividly describe to you the debacle that was my attempt to cook whole wheat pasta in a rice cooker. I divulge these embarrassing culinary failures only to try and make you understand how significant this realization is to me.
It all came about because we had celery, which isn't my favorite ingredient to begin with, dying in the fridge. I recognized that it had only two, maybe three, days before it became rubbery, flacid and beyond saving. What's a girl with next to no abilities in the kitchen to do? Four letters. S-O-U-P.
I quickly googled a recipe for celery soup. I found one that sounded palatable, but it included cream and I didn't have any. A little voice in the back of my head said potatoes would work. A confirmation from the hubby (a trained chef) confirmed it was a go.
I set about chopping up the celery, and the obligatory garlic and onions. I sauteed them off in a stock pot with a big chunk of organic butter and, after a few minutes, added a chopped russet potato and some chicken stock. I stirred it and, on a whim, added a couple of ounces of the Gewurztraminer I was drinking. It was at that point I remembered the leftover kale in the crisper drawer. It didn't have too much life left in it either, maybe a week. Kale isn't exactly an everyday ingredient in our house, so I figured it may be beyond help by the time we got the chance to use it. I hesitated a second then, in the pot it went.
I let it simmer for about 15 minutes, just long enough for the potatoes to be knife tender, and I turned off the stove. I hate brothy soups. Chicken noodle soup, Miso soup? No thank you. I like my soups with a little umpf to them, so I pulled down the blender, ladled it in from the pot and set it to liquefy.
It's probably pertinent to note here that I also "learned" tonight the importance of not overfilling a blender with scorching hot liquid. Apparently it doesn't matter how tight you have the lid on, the steam pressure wins. No worries though, my arm will be good as new in a day or two.
In the end, that soup was nice and blended. I added some sea salt and some freshly ground pepper, et voilà! I dipped the spoon in, hesitantly tasted it (half expecting it to be foul) and found it to be pleasantly delicious! Holy Shit, I did it!
Some of you are sitting there shaking your head, seriously contemplating if you've always given me way too much credit, and I don't blame you. I have always seen cooking as something that is learned, practiced, and perfected over the course of many years; like sewing or playing the piano. Sure, I've followed a recipe before with varying success, but tonight I created my own pattern and composed my own song. Tonight I learned that I can cook.
Being married to a chef means that cooking isn't part of my daily chores, or even weekly chores. Ever cooked for a professional chef? It's like preaching to the choir, only they're rewriting the sermon as you read it. No thank you, I'll stick to eating. John was a good sport tonight, managing to down the whole bowl with just an extra pinch of salt added to his; a gesture I deeply appreciate.
Despite all my excitement I managed to write the recipe down for further reference; you just never know when there will be another bunch of dying celery in my crisper drawer waiting for an Angel of Death.
