be a better cook

...no matter how much or how well you cook, you can always do better. Plus, of course, by leaving this goal open I can track some of the niffty shit I whip up in my kitchen.
As of late I have been trying to perfect a pizza dough recipe, making clam chowder, chicken pot pie from scratch, corned beef, artichoke and spinach dip, babyback ribs, beef stock, Bigos (Polish hunters stew), and a white bean soup.
Next up, I’m thinking about trying a chicken carbonara recipe that I saw online.

My mom came over for M-Day and I fixed us a simple, yet delicious meal. Rather than go out (like most of the 5 million denizen of this city), we opted for aged filets, fresh Yukon Gold mashed potatoes, and thick stalks of savory steamed asparagus. I tied the filets in butcher’s twine, put a light rub on the outside, and then seared them to a medium rare. As a bonus, I used some of the stock I made from my last prime rib for a light gravy (infused with a dash of heavy cream and pepper). Nothing fancy, but I still felt good about it.

OK, this is something I need to do. At one point in my life, I was, by most standards, a very good cook. Not a professional chef, but comfortable holding my own in the kitchen. Sadly, time and apathy eroded my skill like a California beach front. Like an aging, overweight boxer, my skills got rusty. And, like those stalwart fighters of yesterday, a younger and more skillful cook has taken the glory I once held.

Enter the Girlfriend Unit.

For whatever reason, most of the women in my life have been sub-par cooks, and a good number of them have been down right terrible. Sure, they may have one or two recopies they are good at, but in general, most of their skills were rudimentary. I figured this was just par for the course in today’s fast food world. Boy, was I in for a rude and delicious awakening.

The Girlfriend Unit can cook, and I mean, she seriously knows her shit. Here is a teaser from the last menu: Endive, pear, and Stilton blue cheese salad with pear vinaigrette and walnuts. Never mind the standing prime rib, encrusted with sea salt, that was served with it (along with a half dozen other delights).

The bottom line is that I need to get off my ass and start burying my nose back in the cookbooks. I can still clarify butter, I can still make a decent bouillabaisse, I have fresh herbs growing nine feet from my kitchen, and I have an assortment of local markets that can provide me with fresh meat, fish, veggies, etc. The time has come to get back into the kitchen.