This is probably as mundane and pointless as they come, but I feel the need to recount my sordid tale of gastronomical adventure. I’ve been flat sitting for my friend, let’s call her “Mary.” Last night, at four a.m. after scanning, editing and archiving about 200 photos at 4000 dpi, I got the urge to eat. I ran out of my own food, so I raided the kitchen.
Mary obviously stocked her fridge with the assistance of Mad Libs. An inventory: One lemon. One jar of congealed drippings (schmalz). One jar of mayonnaise. One jar of Dijon mustard which has taken on a rather Play-Doughy consistency. Two packets of shoelaces. One rotting half-onion, which I suspect may be harboring the cure for Parkinson’s. One deck of cards. One carton of milk which I bought. Five dice. Several multi-colored spools of thread. One ginger root, relatively fresh. Two envelopes of foreign currency (Polish, Italian.) Various tablets and capsules (Vitamin B-, iron- and calcium- supplements, plus pain killers.) One packet of rehydration solution. One box of safety pins. Sewing needles. One pink pencil. Several dozen rolls of Kodak 160NC roll film. Various notes.
When she returns, I will have to introduce Mary to all her furniture and appliances, and explain their individual domestic and societal roles to her. I didn’t even dare try my luck with the freezer.
So I’m scavenging through the flat, trying to figure out what could I possibly eat? I managed to find some spiral noodles I had bought last time I was here. I made chicken soup that time and decided not to use the pasta. Great, pasta, that’s a start. OK, culinary McGyver, what else? Hmm…no garlic. No vegetables of any sort. No cans of conserves/preserves/anything. In fact, we have the following to work with: paprika (I bought), salt, pepper, olive oil (there is a God!), chicken bouillion cubes, one bag of instant rice, flour and the contents of the fridge. That’s the extent of food in this flat. Even the most penniless of bachelors usually have at least, oh, a can or powdered packet of soup or something. Hey, it’s not my flat so I shouldn’t complain. What can I possibly make? Flour, oil and milk. That’s the start of a bechamel-based sauce if I’ve ever seen one. I’d prefer butter to olive oil in this case, but as they say, beggars can’t be choosers. (Actually, a beggar I met along 95th St. in New York in 1997 disproved THAT adage when I offered to buy him pizza and he said he’d prefer a hamburger.) Now, paprika and chicken boullion. I don’t have to use all the ingredients, but without garlic or onion or parmesean-reggiano , a plain bechamel is rather, well, bland.
I must interject at this point and say that well-stocked spice and herb racks are dangerous, dangerous things. Most otherwise sane people I know, when presented with an array of seasonings and condiments lose themselves in some cathartic sort of abstract culinary self-expression. The image of a child with too many finger paints comes to mind for some reason. Making spaghetti sauce is usually the worst culprit. It all starts out so promising. Tomatoes, garlic, olive oil, basil, salt, pepper. So far so good. taste “Hmm… needs something. Oregano.” Yeah, sure, I suppose. “More basil.” OK. “Hot pepper flakes” Bingo, we’re getting somewhere! “Cumin.” Huh? “What’s in the fridge. Hmm…maybe some A1 would liven it up.” Whazzat? “Garam Masala, yeah, that’ll give it a nice Indian kick. Cool.” No, no, no!!! “Ginger, why not? Oh, and how 'bout some Dijon Mustard?” It takes all the strength of 27 years to curb my pyromaniacal urges at this point.
Back to our main thread. From a rather unencouraging start, I managed to make something that in third-world countries and England passes for edible. Actually, it very much resembled those dried packets of Lipton or Knorr pasta-with-sauce-type ten-minutes meals. Not exactly the zenith of domestic cookery, but I was proud. I would call mine “Paprika Chicken Spirals.” If you added some actual chicken, you’d get a meal which might even pass for haute cuisine in certain households (namely, this one.)
At any rate, I feel asleep fairly well-fed, though I certainly had the oddest dreams…