I love holidays. I love eating holiday food. I even love eating holiday food that I don't like, as long as I don't have to make it. The Kitchen stresses me out.
The Kitchen is not my favorite room in the house because it is too busy being my least favorite room. I prefer The Laundry Room to The Kitchen. I can put things in a machine, I can add soap, and I can watch it spin. I can hang clothes, put clothes in the dryer, and fold clothes while they're warm, and clean, and smelling delicious. But I can't, for the life of me, figure out what "fold into batter" means. How in the heck do you fold cream into batter? FOLDING IS FOR CLOTHING! The rhyme is what seals it as truth.
I also cannot follow recipes with more than six ingredients. There is a limit to how much I can count. And there is no way I can find shallots in the store. Yes, shallots. They look lovely in the picture in my cookbook but I have spent longer than I am willing to admit staring at the produce section trying to find shallots. Of course I'm not going to ASK, that's embarrassing.
My cupboard is stocked with spices that I have used once and never again. Turmeric, nutmeg, chili powder, cumin, sumac, zahtar, and salt. Kidding about the salt, that's the only one I know how to use. If I don't have the exotic spice that the "super easy and user friendly" recipes call for, I sometimes try to replace with something that I do have. For instance, cumin and cinnamon share a lot of the same letters so they might be related. Turns out there is no reasoning when it comes to spices. No one is related. It's not a Jewish institution.
I also have an issue with recipes that use the world "almost." Almost doesn't count. And almost doesn't work. How do I know if the mushroom liquid is ALMOST evaporated? I don't have a countdown! What happens if I turn off the heat when it's almost almost evaporated instead of almost? How does the recipe-writer know what "almost" means for me?Almost must be removed from all cookbooks. Now.
I would like to say that I DO try. And I do cook. And I do bake. And my food is good. (If you've eaten here and disagree, disagree quietly.) But unless it's a recipe that I've used time and again, cooking is stressful. And I haven't even begun to talk about what it's like when you have a toddler in The Kitchen with you. I have two.
My 3.5 year old is always eager to help and she begins snapping her stool into place at the counter the minute she sees me eyeing my apron. I don't discourage her and I try to let her help because that's what the Parenting magazines tell me to do if I want her to be the one cooking for the family in a few years. So I let her place her stool directly in the line of fire so that I may trip on it every time I turn around.
My one year old likes to be a part of the action, too. Her favorite thing to do is look in the oven. Which is great, unless I need to open the oven. Then I have to find a way to distract her long enough for me to get the oven open, put the food inside, and close it. This requires a lot of maneuvering. Sometimes I pick her up, run to the other side of the house, place her down, and run back to The Kitchen. She moves pretty fast but if I put enough things in her way I can make it back to The Kitchen before she does. Hopefully during that time my big girl hasn't decided to help by adding some more spices to the dish. She is helpful like that.
If you've ever cooked together with your children, you know that you pouring anything into the mixer is sacrilegious. It's a known fact that they are the chosen pourers. Of everything. Even if the cup of oil weighs more than they do, they will pour. And you will not help. So I do a lot of deep breathing during cooking. And a lot of oil spill cleanups.
Kids also like to bring things to you. Chaya, the big girl, is very proud of all the things that she can find in the pantry. Rivka is as well. Generally speaking, in the time it takes Chaya to find the ground pepper which is right in front of her, Rivka has chewed through a box of raw macaroni. Don't worry, it's whole grain.
For Sukkot I will be joining my extended family and so I am only cooking some dishes to bring along. To my family reading this: just because I don't enjoy cooking, doesn't mean I can't. Please eat my food. Here is what I'm bringing: challah, sweet and sour chicken, marsala chicken (this was me out of my element, but my husband really liked it when we had it elsewhere), spicy lemon chicken, vegetable orzo, and butternut squash kugel.
Which brings me to my final cooking point: If it calls for more than 1/2 C of sugar, let's do everyone a favor and just call it cake, not kugel.
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Fear not, I have been keeping up with my Motherlying over the holidays. In fact, I was quite proud when a friend complimented me on my speed of creation for said untruths. Some of the latest:
While she was ALREADY in bed and I was just about to leave the room, "Honey, we can't go wash your face because it's not good to put cold water on your face right before you go to bed."
"I didn't forget to buy your vitamins, the doctor wants me to research some new ones for you."
"Yes, I will look online to see if I can find you Aleph Beis cookies like your friends have."
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