Maybe it’s because the weather’s cooling off or because the smell of soups and stews is in the air, but I’ve been picking up cookbooks lately, browsing for recipes.
I’ve never been a gourmet cook. In fact, I’m not much of a cook period. Our kitchen is small for a reason – I don’t want to spend any more time in there than I absolutely have to.
But as we’re empty nesters and all my friends want to talk about is their blood sugar levels, cholesterol and lipids, I’ve started to examine my eating habits a little closer.
And I have to admit that my days of driving through a fast-food joint and picking up fries and a burger are probably over. The days of adding a milkshake to that order are definitely a memory. But instead of whining over the grease I won’t be licking off my fingers, I decided to see if there might be something to actually turning on the stove and cooking something for dinner.
I started online by searching for “quick meals” and the first item was from Country Living. I could deal with that, I thought – fresh vegetables and healthy eating. The first dish called for red peppers and tons of onions, and that was out. I dislike onions and hate red peppers. Plus it was cooked in a cast-iron skillet, and I don’t have one of those.
It got worse – “Pierogies with Sausage, Cabbage and Pear.” I have no idea what “pierogis” are and I don’t see cabbage working in partnership with pears. So on to the next recipe.
“Thai Noodle Soup with Shrimp and Pumpkin.” First, I’ve no clue what Thai noodles are, nor have I ever seen those in the local grocery store where I shop. Secondly, I’m not a fan of eating pumpkin. Those are for carving up and putting near our front door on Oct. 31.
And shrimp goes in etouffee or deep-fat fried with lots of breading and hush puppies and fries and … wait a minute. I’m supposed to be thinking of healthy foods. So I decided to switch tactics and typed in “quick healthy meals.”
The first site that popped up was from the Food Network. I’ve watched cooking shows on that network, and they look pretty complicated. But I thought the “20-Minute Chicken” might be worth a look.
I was wrong.
This was for 20-minute chicken thighs with couscous and dill. I don’t have a clue what couscous is and dill is what I associate with a pickle. Then I saw grape tomatoes and that made me think about watermelon and how much I miss summer meals like barbecue and burgers and more barbecue.
The next day, I went to the library and the friendly librarian pointed me in the direction of cookbooks. I quickly got lost in the dozens of cookbooks on the shelf to fit every dietary need. There was a totally gluten-free cookbook, three or four for vegans, a paleo diet cookbook and a dozen or so dealing with just chocolate.
As much as I wanted a chocolate cookbook, I settled for one with 300 easy and healthy recipes. Didn’t matter that there was a picture of cupcakes and pizza on the front – the book claimed to be healthy.
I opened it to a random page and found prosciutto and arugula pizza. Again, not a clue what those two ingredients are. But I checked the price — $20 a pound for the prosciutto at an online store. That’s more than steak.
And I don’t have a clue where to find arugula in the store. But I wanted to give the cookbook another try, so I closed my eyes and randomly picked a page, and “Indian Chicken with Cucumber-Mango Sauce” popped up. There were six or seven ingredients, but the recipe looked easy enough. Sitting down, I started making a list with all the ingredients I’d need. All was fine until I got to the last item on the list – thinly sliced fresh mint. I don’t have a fresh mint plant. I think I saw some mint plants at the hardware store, but that’s 20 minutes away.
Sighing, I opened up the pantry and saw a box of Trix cereal. Let’s see – it’s colorful, it’s cheap and it’s already here. And for a continental flair, I’ll have breakfast at night instead of early in the morning and really shake things up.
As they say in the fanciest kitchens in the land, dinner is served.
This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.