Julia Child-ism or perhaps Emeril Lagassoria
How exciting it is to be present at the birth of a new psychological disorder. Mine.
I’ve suspected for sometime now, that my irrational need to cook was some type of sickness. Last weekend confirmed it. I guess all I must do now is record my findings and report this new type of addiction to Fraiser Crane. I haven’t set on a name for my disease yet. I am open to suggestions.
Date: October 31, 2010
A Brief Backstory
My goal in life is to be the crazy cat lady that lives alone in a big house and nobody lets their kids go near. In my neighborhood the kids like me, and I don’t nearly have enough cats to be a home owner association nightmare, so every Halloween my doorbell rings non-stop. I always ‘food bribe’ a friend to do the daunting task of passing out candy whilst I braise meat and play with knives. Happy Halloween to me!
The Stages of Addiction:
The Experimental Stage “I’ll try it once and won’t again”
It was a holiday, so the menu was an autumnal favorite: Bon Appetit’s Cabernet braised short ribs over Gorgonzola polenta with shaved brussel sprouts and shallots.
With my pantry well stocked and my finances limited I was happy to only purchase 6 additional items to create the entire meal. Yes, I was in complete control of my budget and my faculties. I shopped a few days before and woke Sunday morning prepared to start cooking around 6pm to eat at 9:30pm. Las Vegas trick or treating happens between the hours of 6-9pm, very different from my childhood back east. We pounded on doors the minute we got home from school and changed into costume. Anyhow,
The Recreational Stage “I’m just doing it to wind down, no big deal”
It was my day off from the brewhouse. I was watching football, sipping coffee and mildly jonsing. I wanted to be in my kitchen. I wished I at least had something to prep but there was nothing I could do. I had 6 hours to wait to cook and that was not a good thing. I began to think to myself, “I really should offer my guest an appetizer before the well attired begging commences. I can’t leave Daryl alone outside with a hungry stomach and buckets of chocolate. That would be cruel. For his sake, I should make a little snack, no big deal. Just a little something to tide him over. I’m thinking of my friend and not me.”
The Misuse Stage
Under Claude’s watchful eye, I flipped through Gourmet Feb 2004 and found an old favorite; the Alsatian Tart. It was a light starter, a thin crust bacon pizza made with puff pastry dough. Claude didn’t seem particularly wowed by my choice, but I was. Well, not really wowed I guess. Justifying a shopping trip to feed my culinary addiction was more important than what I would be ultimately feeding on. Still I picked a good solid starter. “If I make the tart, I will have a leftover puff pastry sheet that I could use to make the Camembert tarts for my birthday dinner next month. And I don’t need to purchase many more ingredients for the tart, just some bacon, cottage cheese, sour cream–yes, sour cream!!…”
The Abuse Stage
“….If I get the sour cream then I can make the cake I almost made last week, but didn’t because I didn’t have sour cream at that time and all I need for that recipe is more butter and some apples…”
“…..and that’s all I need: puff pastry, bacon, sour cream, cottage cheese, butter, apples, and then we will have the Alsatian tart (recipe serves 8) to begin, followed by 4 pounds of short ribs, polenta, brussel sprouts and a 10 inch Apple Walnut Upside-Down Cake with Calvados Caramel Sauce and fresh whipped cream to feed 2 people”. And I left for the grocery store thinking, “I’m fine, I’m in control, and I can stop anytime I want.”
Thousands of children went home that night with bag fulls of candy. Daryl made it out of my house alive with a very full stomach and generous doggie bag. I have a fridge of leftovers that are not included in my diet.
My name is Lauren and I have a problem…