A funny thing happens when you move out into your own house with your
fiancé. You have to learn how to cook. I sometimes say to Luke that this is not
the 1950s and I’m not required to cook for him every night.
But truthfully, it’s a nice thing to cook for your significant other. It makes
me feel good when I can feed him a good meal and impress him. So I’m learning. Albeit very slowly.
Growing up with a father who is an amazing Italian cook, my cooking
experience never truly developed. Now that Luke and I are living together, I
always want to prepare great dinners for us and am just learning the true
lesson in being a great cook.
To just have fun with it!
I love baking, because of how scientific and exact it is. Baking is all
about measurements and following the recipe exactly. Cooking-
truly good cooking- comes from guessing
and experimenting and winging it.
Ron, my father, has mastered this art. He'll watch 2 minutes of cooking show
and produce the most amazing stuffed quahogs you'll ever taste. His sauce
recipe is perfection after years of making it- from his army days (which is why
he always makes a ton of it, or anything for that matter) to cooking every
night for my mom, sister and I.
To Ron, cooking is carefree and something he has an innate ability for. He
loves cooking huuuuuuge batches of food, and loading up our plates against our
(unconvincing) pleas that
that’s
enough!!!! (somehow we always manage to clean our plates). He makes these
big batches of meatballs, sauce, eggplant parmesan, chicken cacciatore and corn
chowder and feeds everyone he knows—the golf pro at his country club, my mom’s
co-worker-- you name it. He loves people to enjoy his food and even since I’ve
moved out, I’m still fed quite well by Ron-- Tupperwares of sauce and freshly gathered
clams from Duxbury Bay. It’s the truest form of comfort food to me.
In my ongoing pursuit of becoming a more carefree cook, I have been trying
more to just glance at a recipe for ideas and wing the rest. Sure there's the risk that it could come out awfuuuuul. But I think this lesson applies to a lot in life. To not think too much (*something I definitely am guilty of) and just go with your gut.
Luke loves twice baked potatoes, even choosing them as a side at our
wedding. His mom has always made them and in an effort to keep him from getting
too homesick for his mom’s cooking, I decided to make them for him. My
experience with twice baked potatoes is limited to the frozen ones (how good
are those though?!)
I found a few recipes online and whipped these
up. I didn’t follow a recipe exactly, or
measure anything for that matter so here are the ingredients. And go
ahead, throw caution to the wind and just wing it too, you daredevil!
Twice Baked Broccoli Potatoes
2 Russet Potatoes, scrubbed clean
Shredded Cheese (I used Stop & Shop Mac and Cheese Blend)
Frozen Broccoli, defrosted and chopped up
Low Fat Milk
Butter (I used margarine, as it’s all my poorly stocked kitchen had)
Garlic Powder
Salt & Pepper
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Poke the potatoes with a fork a couple of times
around and microwave until softened, turning a few times throughout. (I used my
microwaves potato setting) Slice the potatoes in half and carefully scoop out
the flesh, leaving a very thin part of the potato attached to the skin. (Don’t
worry if they begin to fall apart. I freaked for a minute, but then it was ok.
phew) Combine the scooped out potatoes, a splash of milk (add a little now and
more as you stir them), a handful of cheese (as much as you like), a couple pads of butter, the chopped
up broccoli, a few shakes of garlic powder, salt and pepper to taste. Mash it
all up and add more milk until you get the right consistency of mashed
potatoes. Scoop it all into the potato skins, press down, and top with more cheese and baked
for 25 minutes, or until the cheese is melted and golden. Serve with a steak.