Sometimes, it's just one of those days...

Not fair.

Cooking in a Man's Kitchen

There is something to be said for living in a house with three women who cook a lot (especially if one of them happens to have lots of cooking utensils – thanks Erin!). I have started to take for granted the fact that we have things like a zester, a fine sieve, assorted glass bake ware, and, yes, even a can opener available for our everyday use. Apparently, these are things that not every kitchen comes equipped with.

This weekend, I decided to cook dinner to impress a boy. I quickly learned how different a man’s kitchen is from a woman’s. First of all, he had NO FOOD! OK, slight correction: he had no food I wanted to eat – I don’t consider Velveeta, hot dogs, and beer to be staple diet items. Where is the fresh basil? Where is the blackberry jam and mascarpone cheese? Where is the thin-sliced chicken breast? Where are the VEGETABLES?! Luckily, with a quick trip to the grocery store, we were able to get some actual food (I mean, he didn’t even have an onion! Who doesn’t have an onion just lying around?) and I got to work preparing orzo-stuffed bell peppers.

I hit a couple snafus though. His can opener did not function, for one. What’s there to do if you need to open cans for dinner except send him out to get one? Luckily, he was more than willing to go (I think he even volunteered) and I stayed behind to get the rest of the ingredients ready. Unfortunately, he didn’t own a grater; so instead of grating the zucchini I needed for the filling, I had to dice it instead. Probably not really more labor intensive than grating would have been – you just lose the convenience of uniformity. Plus, it will take longer to cook. No matter, zucchini is diced, into the bowl it goes.

At this point, the very well-intending boy comes back from the store, proudly displaying the new can opener he bought and…a new grater. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I had already moved past that step, so it just sat on the counter, teasing me. Hopefully one day he’ll put it to good use and buy some really nice block Parmesan.

Anyway, can opener in hand, I can add the one can of tomatoes I needed – the rest of the ingredients were pretty self-explanatory: a chopped onion, some cheese, olive oil (by the way, did I mention he has no measuring utensils? It’s a good thing I wasn’t baking…), salt and pepper. I moved on to cooking the orzo but hit another wall when it came to draining it using a “fine mesh sieve.” Yeah, right… I actually looked in the cabinets hoping that somehow this tool would magically appear, but to no avail. Improvisation is the mark of a good cook, right? I had the “brilliant” idea to use some paper towels to drain off the excess liquid – until they broke and I had a big mess all over the pan. Yep, that’s right: a wet paper towel cannot hold up a cup and a half of cooked orzo. (At this point, the boy came in and blithely pointed out that I could have simply lined a regular colander with paper towels to give it more “structural integrity.” Where was he earlier, when I actually could have used that advice?)

Have you ever tried to spoon out orzo from liquid? It’s probably the most frustrating thing I can think of. Needless to say, there was quite a bit still in the broth, but I was kind of past the caring point. Finally, everything was ready; it was stirred, stuffed into peppers, covered with foil, and tossed in the oven – at which point I burned myself. Perfect.

In the end, everything turned out well; nothing burned (well, except my arm), the cheese melted deliciously, and the boy went back for seconds. All in all, I’d say it was a successful dinner.

Some would argue that perhaps I over-reached myself for this first cooking attempt; I refute that by saying that I have made this exact recipe multiple times before, and I have never had this much difficulty with it. When you have the right tools, things go well. Note to self: put a fine mesh sieve on my wedding registry one day.

Once upon a time...

Once upon a time, there lived three roommates, Erin, Laura, and Danielle. They were numbers 10, 12, and 13 of a long line of women who lived in a house know by all surrounding neighbors as "The Halfway House." Each of these women quickly discovered a mutual fondness for community, entertaining, food, antiques, faith, and of course boys. One day...