Small Stuff

I have a deep respect for culinary giants.

For selfish reasons (which have more to do with the watching and less to do with the cooking), I particularly appreciate the male and not gay variety. I have a fascination with people like Tom Colicchio and Jamie Oliver the same way that many other woman obsess over George Clooney and Brad Pitt. I have visions of being spoon-fed one glorious meal after another accompanied by perfectly matched glasses of wine.* Yum-O.

*As a footnote, above-mentioned visions are accompanied by the metabolism of an 18 year old and the body of a stripper that I don't have to work-out for (thank you very much).

Apparently my starry-eyes-for-chefs-syndrome is not lost on much of anyone who knows me well. I recently received an email from my friend, Kate, asking "So is it bad that I find Tom Colicchio from Top Chef attractive? Of all of my friends, I thought you’d understand!". And, oh boy, do I understand! Tom Colicchio is ALL man. He is the epitome of the "let me fix your car, mow the lawn, shoot a deer AND make you an AMAZING dinner" kind of guy (at least in my fantasy...and this is my blog and thus, my fantasy). Kate finding him attractive, however, was a bit funny, mostly because Kate doesn't cook. At all. Especially vegetable-anything-food.

Kate is a new friend and fast becoming a member of the Circle of Fabulousness. She was originally introduced to the group by way of my hiring her, and has since managed to charm herself in to the core group of the circle. She is an interesting addition. She's young (early 20s), doesn't drink much (despite our best efforts), has been in one long-term, stable relationship since high school (therefore, no Bridget factor to speak of), and weighs all of 90 pounds without working out (damn her!). But, she is incredibly wise for her years and comfortable in a group of thirty-somethings, is more well "life-planned" the most of the rest of us and is, perhaps, one of the most quick-witted and saucy-tongued people I have ever met. She says the things most people would refrain from saying but somehow gets away with it.

The glue that holds Kate and I together beyond our job descriptions, in my opinion, is a mutual unspoken agreement that life is kinda hard...and harder on some of us than others. We both have moms with cancer, we both have dad's with their own major illnesses, we both have watched our parents lose everything because of crappy health insurance and in return, be unable to help either of us with things like schooling, weddings, first homes etc... Both of us, at times, seem to be parents to our parents, and we both have the ability to shrug things off with the utmost sarcasm that prevents us from actually feeling. We laugh at ourselves. We laugh at others. We deflect attention from ourselves on to others so that no one sees the cracks.

And, we both, apparently, think Tom Colicchio is all that.

Cooking (enter Tom Colicchio) is an escape for me. I pour over cooking magazines the way that some people read the bible. I subscribe to them all; Gourmet, Bon Appetite, Cook's Illustrated, Cooking Light, Food and Wine etc... etc... I covet time to read them. I tag pages of interest, create binders of recipes to try and daydream about the perfect dinner party I might throw. I also watch Food Network; Rachael Ray, Paula Deen, Bobby Flay and Emeril. I hang out online and stalk their recipes after a particularly inspiring show and I daydream about owning my own cafe or cheese shop or high-end gourmet grocery. I fantasize about being a guest judge on Top Chef (even though I am not sure what the angle would be besides "freaky, hopelessly addicted fan who likes to eat things") and winning a foodie getaway somewhere amazing.

The reality is that I am not that great of a cook. Above average? Perhaps. Head chef at Restaurant Guy Savoy? Not a chance. And, baking? Forget it! Anything with exact measurements and waiting time for things to rise in dark, draft-free corners is just entirely too stressful and specific for me. But, above average is good enough for me because it is good enough to keep me occupied and in constant pursuit of "improving my game". It keeps my mind full, ideas flowing and my hands busy during that doldrum time of night when empty air leaves too much time for thinking uncontrolled, unworkrelated "oh-my-god-what-the-fuck?" thoughts.

I have come to the conclusion that I do sweat the small stuff. I sweat the small stuff as a means of diversion from the big stuff. I am great at compartmentalizing and great at developing solution-oriented OCD, one hermetically-sealed "issue" at a time. Once the seal is cracked, I have a tendency to beat the hell out of it (and, figuratively, anyone associated with it) until I have a solution. I tend to ignore "no" and not believe in "impossible". I will for things to come together; to be solved and to work out according to plan.

Belief in eventual positive outcomes is why I tend to struggle much more with issues like Huntington's Disease. Despite my best problem-solving, don't take "no" for an answer and will for happy-endings efforts, HD is one thing I have absolutely 100% no control over. I can't change it. I can't fix it. I can't plan my way out of it. And, that is fundamentally opposed to my life ideology. These seemingly unfixable issues are the ones that are repeatedly categorized in to the Ignore File.

Compartmentalization works. It is what allows me to focus on each step of immigration one piece at a time. It is why I can spend an entire day figuring out quarantine procedures for my dogs or what the better plan of action is for shipping household contents (extra baggage on the airline or pallet by sea?). I know dogs and baggage don't play any immediate importance in our planning. I know they are things to be figured out at the end-stages of all this. But, if I stop and open up Pandora's Box of immigration BS, then I become completely overwhelmed with issues such as: the need to sell our house in a recession, our lack of financial where-with-all to afford plane tickets, shipping of belongings, and shipping of dogs and the fact that we will need find jobs, find a place to live, acquire vehicles, lose 10 pounds (at least) so that all of our friends over there who last saw me 30 pounds ago won't die from shock (and yes, that is a bona fide immigration concern, thank you) and, oh, actually get approved for the damn visa which allows me to worry about ALL these other things!

When I think of the big picture, I want to throw up. So, I go back to my comfort zone of sweating the small stuff. And, in my world sweating the small stuff is best done while sweating over a hot stove. Or sweating while running. But, I prefer cooking because I find the ability to breathe conducive to productive sweat-producing, small-problem-solving.

Cooking is a breeding ground for small problem solving (and what the cooking part can't solve, the glass of wine that accompanies surely can help). Chopping is therapeutic. Invention of a recipe is self-empowerment in a "I have mastered this" sort of way. And, all the while, one can hammer away on all the facets of the current small problems that need addressing. In between the delicate timing balance of steaming the rice, sauteing the asparagus and grilling the tenderloin, masterful coping strategies can be internally articulated (along with how much rice, asparagus and tenderloin I can actually eat without blowing the diet). And while the small problems may cause anxiety or stress, the activity of cooking calms and sedates; a perfect yin and yang, if you will. By the time dinner is on the table I have both satiated both spirit and stomach alike in a nirvana-esqe sort of way.

That is, unless I mess something up. Then I am just kind of pissed in a failed-artist sort of way.

And the end of the day, life is big. It is a balancing act of where you are, where you have been and where you are going. It is part timing, part strategy and a bit of happenstance. It is peppered with some strokes of luck and some twists of fate. One is not in control of all the outcomes because no one exists in a vacuum. But, if one can improve the game of life through strategic management of the small stuff (which eventually equals the big stuff) while also mastering the five mother sauces, I am convinced that one can then at least cope with the heat.

Eat your heart out Tom Colicchio.

Posting Recipe:
This posting calls for a recipe of that is a bit dreamy and succulent. And, the fact that it has a little alcohol in it can't hurt!

Grilled Herb Sea Scallops with Lemon Vodka Sauce
20 medium sized sea scallops
4 wooden skewers
2 tbsp olive oil
3 tbsp Herbs de Provence
2 cloves garlic, minced
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 c. lemon juice, fresh squeezed
3/4 c. vodka
1/2 c. cream
1 stick butter, cold

Soak the skewers in water for at least two hours before assembly. Pat scallops dry and skewer 5 scallops on to each skewer. Brush lightly with olive oil. Sprinkle with herbs, garlic, salt and pepper.

For sauce, heat the lemon juice in a sauce pan. When reduced by half, remove pan from stove and add vodka. Return the pan to stove and reduce by half again. Add the cream and reduce by half. Slowly add pieces of cold butter to the simmering liquid, whisking the entire time. Sauce should take about 15 minutes to complete.

Heat the grill to medium-high (350 degrees). Make sure the grill grid is clean and well oiled (this is important or you will leave a good portion of your scallop on the grill and they are not cheap...). Place scallops on grill for 4 minutes and then turn. Be sure to turn only once. Grill 4 minutes on second side. Make sure grill lid is closed while grilling. Cooking time may vary based on grill and scallop size.

Note: This recipe is pretty intensely lemon. Be sure to not over-reduce the lemon juice, which will make it more lemony. If you prefer a more subtle lemon taste, use a bit less juice.