A Single Man’s Kitchen
By Jeremy Goodwin, Nov 24, 2006

A different kind of Thanksgiving horror story

One Thanksgiving over a decade ago, I was talked into cooking for the parents of a girlfriend, her siblings, her brother-in-law and what can best be described as a devil doll who apparently subsisted on an unvarying diet of soda and fries.

I shopped in open markets in the bitter wind, fighting the hoards of people, rush-hour traffic and a blizzard while I tried to find everything I needed to cook—not just food but everything but pots. I had done a quick inventory of the facilities before going out for supplies and realized that the spice bottles were decorative and contained inert lumps of various colors of a substance approximating concrete. The electric oven had never been cleaned in 20 years. “Oh, how awful!” you might exclaim, but it was perfect, even down to the label still on the inside of the oven—it had never got hotter than room temperature. 

The cookware was uniformly thin aluminum with tatters of Teflon peeling off the surface, and for some reason there was not a pair of tongs or a strainer anywhere. Inquiries after such arcane devices were met with blank stares of incomprehension. I will comment on the uselessness of tile countertops some other time, but suffice it to say that the combination of tile, hard-plastic cutting board and knives so dull I couldn’t cut myself with them made the project even more challenging than the daunting prospect of cooking using electricity for the first time in decades. I would rather build a fire outside and cook on the embers than use an electric stove. I will say that the kitchen had two or three things in it that were obviously functional, expensive and well used: the electric can openers, both microwaves, the drip coffee maker and the ubiquitous TV.

I sliced and diced and baked, roasted, sautéed, reduced, whipped and grilled for 12 people. 

I did not get good reviews for the following reasons: 

“Box wine is good enough, and no decent American buys French wine.” It was Italian wine, but apparently Tuscany is a part of France despite its continuing proximity to Napoli.

“The cranberry sauce was not from a can, there are no rings in it, also there was not enough sugar or salt in it.” 

“The stuffing was not from a box how we like it, and definitely not salty enough.”

“What are chestnuts/mushrooms/oysters/apples doing in a stuffing?” (I had made three types to cater to various allergies both real and imagined.) 

“The mashed potatoes had green stuff in them and tasted funny (parsley and sour cream) and could have done with some more salt.” 

“The fried sweet potato patties where not a good idea. Just boil them and mash them and add some salt and butter and put marshmallows on top” (more about that later).

“We don´t eat brussels sprouts, even if they are encrusted with salt.”


“The gravy was not from a packet and if you think we are going to eat that stuff after we saw you put the giblets in the pan ... and why don’t you put some salt in it to give it some flavor?”

“This apple pie is tart and needs lots more sugar, and there is not enough salt in the pastry.” 

“You did not make chicken nuggets and fries for the little princess. How can you expect her to eat adult food?”

“No real cream for me, just pass the Cool Whip.”

“No we do not want any of that fancy coffee. Folgers is what we drink around here” (probably with salt in it). 



I smiled through the entire thing until one person got up and said she was going to make some decent food—and then I just left. If I said anything, it was that I was going to get some Marsh Mallow.

You might notice a slightly different way of writing the name “marshmallow,” because what I knew when I was growing up in the UK was that there were lots of different kinds of mallow, but only one seemed to grow near the lakes and rivers in my country, unlike the plethora of species in the Americas (Althaea officionalis), but there was plenty of it freely available. Every part of the plant is edible, but the roots are best boiled to soften them and then fried. The balls of artificial sugar acid that have replaced the healthy, nutritious and medicinal aspects of the original were probably invented to obviate the need for extracting the gooey juice obtained from the roots of what was becoming an increasingly rare plant at the time. Subsequently, they turned an immune-system booster and cough suppressant into a tooth-rotting, stomach-wall–eating ball of corrosive dough.

As some of you may have noticed, few, if any, of my recipes give specific amounts of salt, and they usually end with “salt and pepper to taste.” That is because I prefer to have the natural flavors of the food extant and to keep to a lower sodium intake than might be considered normal. If I do make any concessions to salt it is by using simple replacement techniques, one of which is using lots of dill (rich in mineral salts) or by using a chef’s butter made with herbs and spices.

A personal butter is ridiculously easy to make, requiring only a bowl, mixer, wax paper and a little imagination. It is best to use a full-cream butter, and some people recommend clarifying it first, but just experiment a little with whatever is at hand to start.

This is an open-ended recipe, and anyone can add anything to it according to his or her personal taste. Most chefs develop their own secret recipe over the years and can become famous for their personal butter and jealously guard their secrets. I can remember the look of absolute dismay on the face of a friend of mine, an accomplished chef in the US, when I tasted his butter and reeled off what I thought it contained and got it correct.

 

Chef’s butter 1 pound butter, preferably unsalted 1 teaspoon dill (dried is best) 1 pinch saffron strands, powdered ½ teaspoon cumin seeds (freshly ground if possible) ½ teaspoon nutmeg, freshly grated ¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper ¼ teaspoon white pepper

Mix all the ingredients in a bowl and whip slowly until everything is fully incorporated.

Roll in the wax paper, fold the ends of the paper over, and place in the freezer to set.

It will keep in the refrigerator as long as butter, but warm to room temperature before using.

Jeremy Goodwin is an author, freelance food writer and owner of The Best Kept Secret. He may be contacted at Jeremy@dcnet2000.com