Yum-Ho

I wonder if my children will know who Betty Crocker was or if they'll say things like "Just call me Rachael Ray" when they've have a particularly successful day in the ol' cocina. I have nothing against Rachael Ray--I got one of my best recipes from her--except that I find her ubuiquity bizarre and unsettling. Why'd she have to become an empire? Why'd she have to have a talk show and a magazine in addition to two shows and a line of cookingware? It's only a matter of time until Yum-O is trademarked if it isn't already.

Of course, one should be reminded that Betty Crocker wasn't even a real woman. She was a brand invented by General Mills--reinvented several times as evidenced by the many incarnations of Betty. (In fact, in 1945, Fortune magazine named Betty Crocker as the second most popular woman in America behind Eleanor Rossevelt.) I guess that there's not much difference between Betty and Rachael. Rachael just happened to be alive before she became a brand.

All this said: Just call me Betty Crocker! I've been kicking some serious kitchen ass. (I shall post recipes and links in separate posts for easier searching.) The other day, Bryan and I remembered when my only cooking appliances were an electric wok and a couple of butter knives. I made everything in that wok, yet only one recipe was Asian: pad thai. Drunk macarroni and cheese graced the wok more than any other dish, and when I say drunk, that describes the cook, not the meal. I've loved being crafty my entire life, but it's only in the past year or so that I've really started working my way around the kitchen... taking risks... using real butter... having fun. Last year, Bryan and I started making our own cheese after reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. Then, we started brining chicken after reading Omnivore's Dilemna. And we procured a bread machine somewhere in between. The cooking life just seemed so rich, and it certainly is what it seems. We've always been foodies, loving fine dinners out (though if one more restaurant describes their cuisine as Asian fusion or American electic, I just might give up "fine" restaurant dining entirely). We still talk lovingly of our first "expensive meal" that we enjoyed together on Bryan's 22nd birthday in Taos--a delightful place called Joseph's Table. (They catered Julia Roberts' wedding, so the rumor goes!) The restaurant closed down for a while, but another rumor says it's back. Whatever the case, it ignited a wonderful longing in us for slow, beautiful meals. Listen up, kids: they aren't just for Europeans anymore!

And I'm rambling. The point is that a commitment to good homemade food has been stewing--ba bing!--for a while. And in some ways, it's becoming second nature. I say this with full recognition that Bryan and I are blessed to be in positions where we can devote time to these kinds of things. When I was working in an office, I couldn't plan a dinner the way I can now. In the office, my short breaks consisted of chatting someone up the breakroom or running to Walgreens for tampons. Today, my breaks consisted of throwing a pablano pepper in the oven to broil and shucking a few ears of corn. By the time work was through, all of my ingredients were ready to throw in a pot for a badass fresh summer corn chowder. Hate me. It's okay. I understand. But perhaps it will make you feel better to know that the sourdough bread I was making came out too doughy in the middle.

No?

Well, maybe a few fun recipes will lift your spirits! Put on your aprons and consult your trademark lawyer 'cause we 'bout to say "Yum-O!"