Dreaming of Stardom

Mr. K is home safely from San Francisco, and he came bearing Ghiradelli chocolate and a new baseball hat (I’m not a baseball fan—but I’m a huge fan of having something to stuff onto my head when I go out running so I don’t look like an escapee of Arkham Asylum). Not that he had to bring anything other than his sweet self. I’m just happy to have him home with me again. We went out for lunch at our favorite Mexican restaurant (if there’s anything that tastes better than warm tortilla chips dipped in warm refried beans, well, I don’t want to know about it because I don’t think I could take that much pleasure) and now he’s out in his metal shop and it’s the kind of chill, gray Autumn day that fairly demands that you sit by the fire and knit. My elbow is as uncooperative as ever but I think if I completely ignore the pain it will almost certainly get tired of bothering me and go away. (I feel certain that I’ll get in to nursing school with that kind of stellar medical reasoning, don’t you?)

I also have the cooking channel on for company, not because I really believe I’ll ever be able to produce those lovely, perfectly arranged plates of goodness, but because I drool with envy at the thought of having a kitchen where I don’t have to wipe up spills, don’t have to wash dishes, don’t have to measure ingredients, and can simply pull a completed meal out of the oven without ever waiting for it to cook. Oh, and can consider items like capers, fresh herbs, orange flower water, and water chestnuts to be pantry staples. How nice would that be? I do think, however, that the public isn’t really ready for any cooking show I might be able to host. I mean, how often do you really wish for shows like:

“Ways With Boxed Macaroni and Cheese”
“Chocolate—it’s not Just for Breakfast!”
“Dump Some More Wine in it and Maybe No One Will Notice” (dump some more wine in the guests and they definitely won’t)
“It’s Not Burned, it’s Cajun Style”
“Eggshells Add Calcium to a Dish”
“Frozen Pizza Made Slightly Palatable”
“Starving Dinner Guests are Less Picky”
“White Sauce: It Hides a Multitude of Sins”
“Anything Can Be Casserole if You’re Persuasive Enough”
“How to Blame Guests for Nearly Any Culinary Disaster”
“Dessert First? Why Not Instead?”
“It’s Just a Cat Hair—Don’t Be Such a Baby.”
“How Many Courses Does Anyone Need, Anyway?”
“It’s Supposed to Taste Like That”
“Homemade: Why?”
“There’s No Proof That the Pilgrims Didn’t Eat Hot Dogs and Frozen Tater Tots”
“You Say Cheap, Frozen Crap Like it’s a Bad Thing”
“Formal Potluck Dinner Parties—Don’t Knock ‘em”
“Pot Roast or Shoe Leather—Ways to Tell the Difference”
“The Five Second Rule and How to Make it Work for You”
“Children in the Kitchen. Let Them Take the Blame”
“Don’t Forget to Hide the Cans and Boxes (and other tips for perfect dinner parties)”
“The Smoke Alarm Need Not Be a Timer”
“If it Tastes Just Like Chicken, Serve the Damned Chicken”
“Canned, Shmanned—if They Don’t Like it, Don’t Invite Them Back”
“Practicing Your Poker Face (“No…..mine tastes fine…why”)”
“You’re Not Really a Cook Until You’ve Given One Person Food Poisoning”
“If the Cat Won’t Eat it, You May Not Want to Serve it”
“Cleavage: How Distracting Dinner Guests May Improve Their Memory of the Meal”
“Just Because Ina Garten Does it, Doesn’t Mean You Can….or Should”
“Peanut Butter and Jelly Made Elegant”
“Just Stir it, Add Cream, and Call it Fondue”
“Lumps Give a Dish Character”
“What’s a Vegetable Peeler? And Why Would Anyone Use it?”
“If You Can Ladle it, it Can be Soup”
“Tablescapes? Are you Crazy?”
“How Busily Patterned Plates Can Work to Confuse Your Guests”
“Who Says Ketchup isn’t a Vegetable?”
“Shove a Wooden Skewer in it and Throw it on the Barbecue—At Least It’ll Look Good.”
"No One is too Good for Spaghetti-o's"
“Cooking is an Art, and I’m No Artist”

And so on. I can bake okay….but cooking may not be absolutely my greatest talent. Mr. K is still alive, but he has a strong constitution.

I’m going to snuggle back down and try to knit some more. The biggest problem with that damned Bianca jacket is that that parts mostly go so quickly that it always feels like you’re almost there….just a bit more. And an obsessive like me can’t possibly put it down when it’s so close…..can I?