It's the Ingredients That Make the Meal

It’s the Ingredients That Make the Meal

Lucia September 28th, 2007

Did I mention that I come from a long line of self-proclaimed cooking experts? I used to think this was funny. Not any more because I must confess I too think I’m an expert. My friends promote this thinking. They think I’m a kitchen wizard. Of course, most of them eat out all the time or pick up something on the way home from work. So they’re easily impressed.

Still, they flatter me and tell me I should have my own television cooking show. That probably wouldn’t work because I’d have to actually list specific ingredients and measurements. My kind of cooking, which I learned from my mom, is that you just throw in whatever you have, and you just eyeball it. I’ve never seen her measure anything.

I swear my mom can take an onion, some leftover meat of any kind, a little gravy and whip up the most mouth-watering stew. She’s amazing. So she’s my role model. I’m kind of like that too.

Give me some extra virgin olive oil, a tomato, some greens, some broth, a lemon, and any kind of pasta. I’ll wow you with a dish that will make you beg for more.

Want a spectacular salad? The secret is two things: lettuce that you’ve spun dry or blotted dry with paper towels and a really good extra virgin olive oil. Drizzle the oil on the lettuce, toss, splash it with some good vinegar, sprinkle with sea salt, and toss.

I like food, and I like eating. So it was with certain expectations that I went to dinner with a friend who bragged constantly about his mother’s cooking.

After we arrived, everyone gathered around the breakfast bar with glasses of wine. The mother was cooking pasta. I had asked if I could help, and she told me she had everything under control. She was making something she’d seen Emeril cook on Food Network.

Great, I like the Bam-meister as much as anyone and have been known to utter the famous word occasionally when inspired in the kitchen.

She drained the pasta, tossed it with some luscious looking shrimp and cherry tomatoes. Then, I watched in horror as she opened the pantry and pulled out a half-gallon clear plastic container of something labeled pure vegetable oil. I had to bite my tongue, literally, to keep from protesting.

She ruined her beautiful pasta and shrimp dish by pouring that bland oil over it.

Just as I expected when I had my first taste, what should have been a wonderful combination of choice ingredients was an oily tasting disappointment. If she had just chosen her oil as carefully as the jumbo shrimp. But there’s hope for her.

I’m going to give her a little thank you gift for having me as a guest. A lovely bottle of a really fragrant extra virgin olive oil. She’s a smart woman. She’ll see, smell, and taste the difference.

That’ll be an easy conversion from the dark side, won’t it?

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