My signature dish and the non-necessity of recipes

When I left my childhood home years ago to pursue a degree, I felt totally confident cooking one dish: pancakes. Made with Bisquick. Yeah, I was a creative meal-making machine. I had watched my mother cook day after day* from scratch—we ate almost every homemade meal right in that busy kitchen—but I never wanted to pay much attention in those days. Yes, I could cut out ginger cookie shapes; sure, I was perfectly capable of boiling teabags for iced tea. But an item that I could actually create by myself and label a “meal”? That, for me, was pancakes. (And this is not to belittle Bisquick; that sort of product can be quite handy, and a great stepping stone for new cooks.)

I felt confident about making flapjacks because I had made them so many times, almost always on a Saturday morning. Sometimes my dad shared some with me, and sometimes I ate them alone. But I knew what I was doing with those fluffy cakes; like I said in a previous post, practice is the best teacher. 

I remember being shocked several years into adulthood when I realized you can actually make your OWN Bisquick mix. Who knew?! Suddenly, I realized that every single boxed or bagged mix of anything had once upon a time been homemade; the idea was revolutionary to me. But, but—even Jiffy corn muffin mix? Yep. Even the ubiquitous Betty Crocker cake mixes? Yes, that too. The mix was not actually necessary in order to create a fine baked good. I guess at some base level I knew this—I mean, we had made those ginger cookies from scratch growing up, right?—but my family was a 70s/80s family and boxed kits were a popular way. That’s what I remembered seeing for many kitchen items. 

It’s still true, even more so today, when I go to the grocery store and am confronted by shelf after shelf of “convenient” foods that do all the measuring and mixing work for you. Heck, even the mail order fine-dining companies are horning in on that line of thinking—with a hefty profit margin, I might add… But none of those boxes are truly necessary. That dreaded convenience has a detrimental effect on the health potential of the dish. “Stuff” gets added, ingredients you can’t pronounce, preservatives, fillers and salt and sugar and you name it. Will you also spend more for that fabulous convenience? Of course. Not to mention all those filler items will likely have a higher empty carb load than making the same food from scratch. Corn derivatives, anyone? So this cost goes beyond your pocketbook.

Alas, I must steer clear of that whole evil corn by-product soapbox… for now. 

But. Kitchen convenience products came about mostly because women decided it was more important to work outside the home than to keep it, and that has come to include not just cooking but also child-rearing and even housecleaning. Scroll through the jobs ads and see how many of them are for childcare or cleaning positions. Oops—there I go again. Soapbox. Sorry. Stepping off now. (One book on my list foodie booklist below, Salt Sugar Fat, explains in depth the origins of convenience, and our growing love for sugar. If you read it, prepare to be disturbed.)

My long-winded point is that if you take a bit of time to learn how to make your own versions of all those conveniences, you’ll do your body a favor, save money, and ultimately save time as well—because you won't have to plan as hard or run to the store for special ingredients each time you cook. I remember a co-worker lamenting once that she had felt like making a particular dish, but she hadn’t had one of the ingredients and hadn’t felt like running to the stor. Now, you see? That’s the kind of thinking I’m trying to kill with this blog!!!

My friends, the recipe is merely a suggestion!!! That is all! Yes, I used to rely on them more than I do now, and I still need recipes sometimes—but the point of cooking like a great-grandparent is that you don’t NEED to run to the store for that one ingredient, or even two ingredients. The more you cook, the more you’ll grasp that there are big, forgiving rules for cooking, such as Use Approximate and Corresponding Amounts of Dry Ingredients, or Substitute Some Other Green Thing, or Use Sour Cream Instead of Buttermilk. Cans of cream soups? Pshaw, my friends. Eschew those terrible, thick fakes forever!!! They are murder on the mature gut!

My signature dish these days is no longer pancakes, thank goodness. I’ve expanded my repertoire considerably. I guess I would say that nowadays, my signature “thing” is pepperoni rolls. I’ve perfected them, considered the constructive criticism of my family, adjusted amounts of things, added more fillings, made them slightly more healthy… and now I pull out and reuse my own recipe every time because I want the same result--every time. Pepperoni rolls have turned into the food that I give to people who need comfort food but may not have the luxury of a sit-down meal… people who are grieving a loved one, mostly. The reason I am happy with my pepperoni rolls is because they are my own, borne of many hours of experimentation and feedback, and because I commit my precious time and effort into making them. (And yes, baking is less forgiving than cooking—but there is wiggle room in that world, also, once you begin playing there regularly.) 

If you want a good pepperoni roll recipe, comment and I’ll share mine with you in a message. But the best pepperoni rolls will be the ones that you perfect according to your taste. The rolls that you discover you like better with vegetable oil instead of olive oil, because you didn’t feel like running to the market for olive oil. (Although, you really should have olive oil at all times… Srsly.) Those rolls, your rolls, will have a personal history, and it will shine through the flavor. But it has to begin with your time, effort, and adventurous cooking spirit. You cannot be afraid to fail, nor can you always be in a hurry. Hurry is bad for all aspects of a rich life. (That's an entry for a different blog altogether...)

So, leave the boxed mixes on the shelf. Stick to the edges of the grocery store. Fresh stuff. The basics. You can make all of those things for yourself, the way you like them, for less money, for better health. The internet is a fabulous tool and can help you, but the best gift you can give yourself is time in the kitchen to build confidence. Even if the web is offline, you can always pull out some old fund-raising cookbooks from years past—they're rampant at resale shops or flea markets, and the church-ladies' books are the best—and you'll find they almost always included a substitution page somewhere. Those gals knew their stuff! Don't let the art of cooking with what you have die! Some meals will be a wash, but that’s how you’ll learn. Make Grandma and Grandpa proud! You can do it!

* (I also garnered considerable beginner cooking knowledge from a few former boyfriends. It’s a tad humiliating when your guy can make a bigger variety of, and better-tasting, dishes than you can… but it's also motivating! Hey, whatever it takes to get you in the kitchen, trying to be competent, right?)