It looks great… but never cooks itself!

As I try to recoup that missing mojo (and thanks for all the anal love… new followers, unite!) and get organized, I feel a need to clean the refrigerator. When you come into my kitchen (and, no, that is not a euphemism… I’m off sex topics and on to food!), you either get who I am and what I do or it’s a complete fucking mystery.

Most of my friends just nod in sympathetic reverence when I tell them I have a four-ounce jar of Empire Mayonnaise that set me back six bucks. Or that I mourn my inability to get High River Sauces in North Brooklyn. Or that when I am too tired to cook, I open my overflowing cabinets and fridge only to wail, “There’s nothing to eat!”

I’m the type of woman that—if you are cooking for me and need some “grated cheese”—hands you a brick of months old Asiago or Parmesan and a metal grater. (Yes, this actually did happen when I was still seeing the sociopath… I’m trying too hard not to think about him, which probably screams more about me than it does him… but I digress…)

The point is, my kitchen might not speak your language. It always baffles my mind that people still buy processed food. On sheer happenstance yesterday, I passed by some free books (okay, they were put out in the trash: this may be a uniquely NY thing—or even a Brooklyn thing—where people put their old books out on the curb for any passerby to claim) and picked up a copy of Michael Polan’s Food Rules. While I have some of his other books, I don’t have this one (ironically, the garbage version included a hand-signed letter from Mr. Polan… another man’s trash…). Anyhow, I skimmed through it and many of the “rules” I already follow. Including the edict to eat, well, you know, food.

This cannot be understated. If it comes in a box/carton/can, chances are overwhelming that some of all of what you’re eating is not actual food. And while it is much easier to use a can opener than a slow cooker for your soup recipe (and you’re unlikely to find a half-eaten can rotting in the back of your fridge as opposed to the lovely squash soup you made just last week that has already gone rancid), the costs to your body and the environment cannot be measured.

So come into my kitchen (okay, maybe a euphemism applied; I’m tagging all my posts with “sodomy” these days!), and let’s get creative using real ingredients to make amazing food. Right after I finish cleaning the refrigerator.